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Chapter Text

Detective Zhang Rishan lifts the yellow caution tape far enough to duck underneath, and feels a trickle of sweat run down the back of his neck from that simple action alone. He'd only arrived on-scene a scant five minutes ago, but the mid-summer heat has been particularly brutal this year, and even in the shade of the overpass, the air is humid and oppressive. The distinctive smell of river water taints what little breeze there is, leaving a bad taste in his mouth with every breath. But the earthy scent of silt and algae are the least of his concerns.

He slowly makes his way towards his deputy, choosing each step carefully so as not to disturb the scene or contaminate any potential evidence that hasn't been uncovered yet. Zhang Rishan can already see a handful of evidence markers scattered across the wide, flat area between the foot path and the river, and the on-duty photographer is hard at work snapping pictures to document them. A few additional officers are down past the retaining wall, combing the muddy riverbank in waders.

“Luo Que,” he greets as he scans the scene, pretending not to notice the contraband lollipop stem sticking out from between his subordinate's lips. He's long since given up admonishing the man for his habit by this point—if that's the price he has to pay for an otherwise exemplary deputy, then so be it—and instead asks, “What do we have so far?”

“An old fishermen spotted the body over there in the water at around 7 am this morning and called the police,” Luo Que tells him, pointing to a spot on the bank a short ways down river. Squinting against the glare, Zhang Rishan spots the coroner's van parked on the sparse, browning grass near the shore, and in the back, he can make out the nondescript shape of a bagged body on the gurney. “According to the preliminary findings, it appears to be a male, mid-twenties, with multiple wounds and lacerations inconsistent with a simple slip and fall into the water.”

Frowning thoughtfully, Zhang Rishan nods and moves off towards a cluster of evidence markers nearby. He wouldn't have been called in if this was an accidental drowning. “So in your opinion, we're looking at a homicide, and this is the primary crime scene?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Yes,” Luo Que confirms, matching his stride. “Based on river currents, I determined this was most likely where he went into the water. We've found signs of a struggle, and blood spatter consistent with a gunshot wound, but so far no witnesses, no bullet casings, and no sign of a weapon. It might have gone into the river with the victim, or the killer might have taken it with them after committing the crime. In any case, I've put in the request for any footage from the cameras in the area. We should have it within the next few hours.”

“Good work,” Zhang Rishan praises, giving credit where it's due. Choosing Luo Que as his primary partner has been one of the best decisions he's made since his promotion to Detective. He's good enough to be promoted to the position himself, but every time the subject comes up, Luo Que defers, saying he's better at following orders than giving them. Debatable, given how often he ignores Zhang Rishan's, but the fact remains that he's brilliant in his own right, and when push comes to shove, there's no one he would trust more to have his back in a dangerous situation.

The two of them reach the section of the cordoned-off area with the highest concentration of numbered markers, and Zhang Rishan crouches down, studying the ground. The grass here is even more sparse than it is along the river, and most of the packed dirt visible between clumps of scraggly weeds shows signs of cracking from the prolonged lack of rain. The splatters and rivulets of rust-red, though mostly dry now, stand out in stark contrast. Luo Que's assessment is accurate; the trajectory is consistent with a gunshot at close range.

He follows the blood trail with his eyes, spotting a larger stain a short distance ahead. In his mind's eye, he can see the victim stagger a few steps away from his assailant and fall, blood pooling around his final resting place. Or, what would have been, if not for the clearly visible drag marks that lead from that spot to the river. There's no doubt now that this was a homicide.

“Do we have an ID on the victim yet?”

Instead of answering him directly, Luo Que juts his chin to his left. Zhang Rishan rises and turns his head, his gaze landing on one of the Coroner's interns as she approaches the line of tape at a brisk jog. She stops there, seemingly unsure as to whether she's allowed to cross it or not, and holds up an evidence bag with what looks like a wallet inside.

Zhang Rishan waves her in.

“Detective Zhang,” she says somewhat breathlessly once she reaches his position. “The victim wasn't carrying much on him, but we did find a wallet and a government ID.” With no further elaboration, she holds the bag out to him, briskly saluting him and dashing off again as soon as Zhang Rishan takes it from her with a word of thanks.

He's been doing this job long enough to be used to the interns from the morgue being a little antisocial and more than a little quirky when interacting with the living, so he shrugs it off and turns his attention to the bag in his hand. Through the clear plastic window in the wallet's black leather, Zhang Rishan can finally put a name and a face to this case. Although the card is a little waterlogged, the printed photo is still sharp enough to tell that the young man in it was handsome in life. The eyes that look out from the tiny picture are large and dark, and a few strands of long hair frame his face despite the bulk of it being pulled back. The slight smirk on his face lends him an air of haughtiness, but not the kind that suggests he would have been insufferably arrogant or unpleasant to be around for any length of time. More like the kind that says he's confident in what he has to offer, and anyone who doesn't like it can go fu...move along.

Zhang Rishan can't help but feel like it's a shame that this young man—Wang Can, according to the information, born April 15, age 26—ended up murdered and dumped in the river. While he takes every case seriously and does his level best to provide closure to his cases, he can't help but feel especially motivated to deliver justice when the victim should have had a long life ahead of them.

“Get this information into the system,” he says once he's committed it to memory himself, handing over the evidence bag to Luo Que. “We'll need to inform his next of kin and see if we can get them in to formally identify the body.”

Snorting softly and smirking around his lollipop stick, Luo Que takes it and heads back to the car to do as he was asked without protest. They both know that “notify a homicide victim's relatives” is Detective Zhang-speak for “start building a suspect pool”. He's lost count of the number of times the seemingly grief-stricken spouse, sibling, or best friend has turned out to be the perpetrator in the end. Sometimes a simple conversation is all it takes to reveal a solid lead.

And sometimes it doesn't even take that much.

“Detective Zhang!”

His gaze snaps to the officer waving at him from the bank of the river, picking up on the urgency in his voice. “What is it?” Zhang Rishan asks as he hastily makes his way over to him. Leaning over the short retaining wall, he follows the line of the officer's extended finger and almost immediately spots what it is he's pointing at. There, beside a few clear footprints left in the soft mud of the riverbank...

“We found the murder weapon.”

Chapter Text

He knows this place. It's Wang Can's favourite. They've been here many times before, but this time it's strange. The chairs seem too tall, like the floor is too far away, and the bar seems too long, stretching out forever in an infinite line of polished wood. Overhead, the lights are simultaneously too bright and too dim, making everything look hazy and shadowed. The glass in his hands suddenly feels too heavy to pick up. And there are voices. Too many voices, both soft and loud, speaking over one another and garbling their words into speech he can't understand. Like when he was seven and stood too close to a firecracker, and his normally sharp hearing sounded strange and muted for two whole days.

There's a crowd here despite the hour- he's aware of it being late, but he's not sure how he knows that. Like the voices, though, the people are without distinguishing features. They're just faceless blurs, no matter how hard he tries to see them clearly. Even the person sitting right next to him. Should he know them? He's not sure, but it makes him grumble to himself because it's hot and they're too close. And not even doing anything to swat away the swarm of giant mosquitoes that's appeared out of nowhere. He can't see them, but he can tell that's what they are from the irritating high-pitched buzzing. And the way one of them lands right on his neck to make a meal out of him.

Fuck this. He'll just leave.

Where's Wang Can? Didn't they come here together?

He slides off his too-tall chair onto the floor that should be level but isn't, and feels like it's made out of shifting sand. He tips sideways, but someone catches him before he can crash face-first into the sand-floor.

Maybe that's Wang Can. He doesn't like not being able to tell.

He doesn't remember drinking very much, but walking from his table to the door is inordinately difficult, even with help. More faceless shadow people drift by around him, and one of them speaks words that sound a little like “Are you okay?”. He doesn't think he is, because the door seems to get farther away with every step he takes and it's entirely possible that he's going to be stuck in this bar with the shadow people forever. But the person next to him says, “He's fine,” and even though it sounds like a lie, he's inclined to believe it. Because he blinks and the door is suddenly right in front of him.

Instead of stepping out into the alley like he expects, he finds himself in a moving car. Outside the window, there are lanterns, tiny fairy lights moving by at a steady pace, floating along like they do at festivals in those costume dramas on tv. Is he in a car or a carriage? He doesn't know. He doesn't know who's driving or where he's going either, but he's leaning on something soft and warm and breathing, and it feels familiar enough that he doesn't resist the impromptu road trip. It's probably just Wang Can. As long as they're together then it's fine.

They're safer together. That's what they agreed.

He wraps his arms around the familiar presence, holding tight so he doesn't lose it. He can't lose it again, not when they've finally found each other after so long. But then, despite his best efforts, it disappears right out from under him. Between one moment and the next, he's left hugging nothing but air. There are voices again, shouting in that same garbled language as the voices at the bar. Maybe they're here for the festival too. Did Wang Can go with them?

Did he leave Liu Sang behind to see the fireworks on his own? The sudden sound of them from somewhere nearby makes him flinch, and yeah he doesn't really like them, but Wang Can should have told him he was going. It's not safe for him to go alone. Not now. Not yet.

The carriage is moving again. But now he's alone and he shouldn't be. He has to go back, has to find Wang Can. They can't get separated again. Not ever.

His hands don't want to cooperate, but at last, his fumbling pays off and he grips the door handle. If he can just wrench it open, he can—

Liu Sang wakes with a start as his ass unceremoniously connects with the floor. Pulse still racing from the odd nightmare, he lays where he landed for a few long moments, blinking up at the strips of light the blinds cast on the ceiling—what time is it anyway?—and tries to remember what happened last night. Wang Can had dragged him out to their favourite place, as he did most Friday nights, despite Liu Sang's protests. That much, he remembers, and that explains why it had featured so prominently in his dreams. But after that, it's a bit of a blur. He has no recollection whatsoever of how he got home last night. Or why he'd been sleeping on the sofa instead of in his bed. And where the hell is his shirt?

When he still has nothing after a few minutes, he finally makes an attempt to drag himself up off the ground. And nearly collapses all over again when his head starts to throb with the worst headache he's had in recent memory that isn't sound-related. Well, at least he has a slightly better idea of why he hadn't made it very far past the front door before passing out. What, exactly, had Wang Can convinced him to drink last night? Whatever it was, he's never touching it again for as long as he lives.

His first stop is the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of hot water and downs two extra-strength painkillers. His stomach still feels too queasy to consider eating anything, so a shower is next up on his to-do list. He reeks of alcohol and cigarette smoke, and every muscle in his body is cramped and sore from spending the night on the sofa. But first, he detours down the hall into Wang Can's room just to confirm what he'd known instantly upon waking—his brother isn't here.

Typical. He's probably just fine. Probably thought it would be hilarious to leave Liu Sang on the sofa to suffer the effects of his significantly lower alcohol tolerance alone. Asshole.

Still, there's something stopping him from being too irritated. Maybe it's just the lingering remnants of his nightmare, but he can't shake the vague feeling of unease he's had since he woke up. It's almost the same niggling sensation that comes with having forgotten something important. Like he should be worried about something, but can't remember what.

Maybe he should just call—oh.

Liu Sang's hand dips into his back pocket only to find it empty. His phone isn't where it's supposed to be.

Closing Wang Can's bedroom door on his way out, he rubs his hands over his face and plods back to the living room to search the sofa and its surrounding area in the hope that it slipped out while he was sleeping. But he again comes up empty-handed. No wonder he felt like he forgot something. He probably did. If he was that drunk last night, it's entirely possible that he left his phone behind when they left. Fuck. That's just his luck. He'll have to go back to the bar and ask after he makes himself more presentable.

With the painkillers finally kicking in, Liu Sang manages to drag himself into the shower to bathe without incident, and feels just a little bit more human by the time he tosses his dirty laundry into the basket. Wang Can still isn't home by the time he finishes drying and brushing his hair, which strikes him as a little odd. But it is the weekend, so maybe he had things he needed to get done and didn't want to wait around until Liu Sang woke up to tell him he was leaving. And if he had tried to text or call to say where he was, Liu Sang wouldn't have gotten it without his phone.

He doesn't particularly want to go out again when he's still feeling so hung-over, especially not with how hot and miserable it's been lately, but going on a scavenger hunt of bad decisions seems inevitable. And it's not like he can call for a ride without it.

Just as he's about to grab his key and his shoes, Liu Sang hears footsteps coming up the front stairs. At first, he doesn't pay much attention, figuring it's just Wang Can finally coming home. But then it sinks in that the gait is all wrong. More than that, there are two of them. And both of them are armed.

Against his better judgment, Liu Sang opens the door just as his visitors are poised to knock, much to the surprise of the uniformed constable standing on his front stoop, who very nearly trips backwards down the stairs. Only the quick reflexes of his colleague—a man in plain clothes with hair that seems too silver to be natural—stops him from falling. Given the exasperation on his face, and the sheepish grin he gets from the constable in return, Liu Sang gets the feeling that this isn't the first time something like this has happened.

“Uh,” he starts uncertainly, looking from one to the other. It seems as if they've completely forgotten about him. “Can I help you?”

The plain-clothes officer shoots one last glance at his partner, and steps up to take the initiative. Something fleeting passes through his eyes upon seeing Liu Sang, there and gone again as if it had never happened at all. “I'm Officer Luo with the Changsha Public Security Bureau. Are you Mr. Liu Sang?” he asks, his expression giving absolutely nothing away as he flashes the badge at his hip. There's a holstered pistol right beside it.

Brow furrowing in confusion, Liu Sang nods stiffly. “I am. What's this about?” Even as he says the words, his earlier unease comes flooding back, bringing with it a sense of dread that he already knows the answer.

The officers are equally grim. “A body was found in the Xiangjiang River this morning. According to the information on the ID card, the deceased is a Mr. Wang Can. Our records indicate that you are Mr. Wang's next-of-kin. Is this correct?”

The news hits him like a brick to the gut, scattering his thoughts and making it hard to breathe, and honestly, Liu Sang doesn't hear much of what the officer says over the high-pitched ringing and pounding pulse thundering in his own ears. How could anything have happened? Hadn't they been together all night? How had he gotten home if Wang Can was... He swallows dryly around his shock and tries to give the waiting officers some kind of answer. It's hard, when his body feels so suddenly cold and numb, but he manages to nod again.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Officer Luo says, though Liu Sang can tell it's a formality, lacking any real sympathy. “We'd like to ask you to come with us to the station to provide a positive identification of the body and answer a few questions pertaining to our ongoing investigation.”

“Investigation?” Liu Sang repeats, his own voice sounding tinny and far away to his ears. “Why? What happened?”

Officer Luo seems to realize he'd let something slip that he hadn't meant to reveal, and hesitates for a moment before responding. “I can't discuss the details of an ongoing case, but it appears that Mr. Wang's death was not accidental.”

And that revelation makes Liu Sang's blood run cold.

It was them. It had to be them. No one else would have...

“Mr. Liu?” the uniformed officer whose name he still doesn't know is gesturing towards the marked utility vehicle parked along the curb. He'd only spoken Liu Sang's name, but he can hear the genuine concern in the officer's voice. If only he was in any state to find it comforting.

Liu Sang doesn't want to go with them, doesn't want to answer the kinds of questions he knows they're going to ask about Wang Can. His brother doesn't deserve to have his illicit history dragged out into the open and scrutinized by the police. Not when he's been working so hard to turn his life around and put all that behind him.

But if it really is Wang Can, if his brother is really...really dead... Liu Sang needs to know. Needs to see him. Needs to know what happened, and how their temporary respite from all the shit they'd both been through could have been so suddenly shattered.

“Okay,” he finally says with a voice far steadier than he feels. “I'll go with you.”

Chapter Text

The Changsha Public Security Bureau station is a relatively modern building with a line of glass doors at the front and a tastefully decorated entryway under a facade emblazoned with the police insignia. The uniformed constable—Kan Jian, as Liu Sang had learned during the short drive from his apartment to the station—drops him and Officer Luo off, then circles the car around to park. They don't wait for him.

Officer Luo leads Liu Sang through the doors and down a maze of corridors, some of which are marked Authorized Personnel Only, until they stop outside a pair of double doors under a sign that reads “Morgue”.

Normally, he would be able to visualize the entire building from the moment he set foot inside, regardless of its complexity, but this time, Liu Sang had been following Officer Luo on auto-pilot, one foot in front of the other, with no real consideration of where they were going. It isn't until this moment, at this final step, that he balks.

If he goes through those doors, then it's real. And he doesn't want it to be real. He wants to stay here in this limbo space, between being told his brother is dead, and seeing it for himself. Because right now, it isn't true. Right now, he can still pretend that Wang Can is just...out. And if Liu Sang just turns around and goes home, he'll probably be there waiting with an excessive amount of take-out, ready to ridicule him for being so damn gullible. There's no way he's inside those doors, laying cold on a table, waiting for Liu Sang to confirm his identity to a bunch of cops.

He can't be. He can't. He—

Liu Sang is startled out of his spiraling thoughts as the door abruptly opens from the inside and another plain-clothes officer steps out into the hall. This one is dressed more professionally—and more old-fashioned—in a waistcoat, pressed shirt, and suit trousers. He's not quite as stoic as Officer Luo, and as his eyes sweep over Liu Sang, they visibly reflect his surprise. That alone is enough to make a stone settle into his gut. Because it's only an understandable reaction if this man has seen his face before.

He and Wang Can are different enough in style and personality that few people mistake them for one another on a daily basis, but it's probably a little unsettling when the person who arrives at the morgue to make an identification looks exactly like the ID photo of the person allegedly already there. But it lasts only for a split second, before he composes himself and returns his expression to one of neutrality.

“Is this him?” he asks, although it seems like an unnecessary question, all things considered. Officer Luo silently agrees, but nods anyway. When his gaze returns to Liu Sang, there's an air of appraisal in his eyes as he holds out his hand. “Detective Zhang Rishan. I'm the lead investigator on this case. Thank you for coming in, and I'm sorry we had to meet under such circumstances.”

They clearly already know who he is, so Liu Sang doesn't bother introducing himself again as he briefly shakes the offered hand. It feels somehow wrong. All these mundane pleasantries. He's not here for a job interview, or a blind date, or a cup of coffee. He's here because they've told him Wang Can is dead. And Liu Sang doesn't have it in him to pretend like there's anything normal or ordinary about that.

“Where's my brother?” he blurts out, suddenly unwilling to draw this out any longer.

Detective Zhang doesn't seem surprised or offended by his outburst. Instead, he simply holds the door to the morgue open and gestures Liu Sang inside. “This way, please,” he says, leading the way past a row of shiny metal tables and carts full of autopsy equipment. The smell of disinfectant and cleaning supplies hangs heavy in the air, and it's almost eerie how quiet it is. Apart from the two officers and him, no one else is here. At least, no one still breathing. Officer Luo follows along silently in Liu Sang's wake, as if guarding against him changing his mind and making a run for it. But now that he's here, he isn't going to turn back.

Along one wall, banks of numbered heavy-duty airtight doors conceal the morgue's temporary residents from view. Despite Changsha's size and population, there are only a few occupied units, each carefully labeled with a name and serial number. Liu Sang doesn't read them. He doesn't want to see his brother's name on one of those little paper identification cards.

And he doesn't have to. Officer Luo had informed his superiors that Liu Sang was coming, and the morgue staff has everything prepared. At the far end of the brightly-lit, white-washed room, there's one table that isn't empty. A clean white sheet is draped over the vague outline of a human body, and it's there that Detective Zhang stops and turns to face him.

“Before I ask you to confirm Mr. Wang's identity, I want to prepare you,” he says, and like Constable Kan Jian before him, there is a hint of genuine sympathy in his voice. “Because of the heat and the time the body spent submerged in the river, there is some degree of disfigurement, as well as damage caused by the current. Please take your time, and only give confirmation if you are completely certain. Do you understand?”

He tries to listen to what Detective Zhang is saying, but Liu Sang hasn't been able to tear his eyes away from the shrouded body on the gurney since they stopped moving, and the renewed pounding of his own pulse threatens to drown out all other sound. Still, he makes a wordless noise of affirmation, and that seems to be enough.

Detective Zhang gently grasps the edge of the sheet and carefully lifts it away from the body's face, folding it back to about mid-chest, and Liu Sang sucks in a sharp breath. No amount of warning could have fully prepared him for what he sees, and his immediate reaction is to close his eyes and turn his head sharply away. He's glad he hadn't tried to eat anything earlier, or it might have come right back up all over the pristine white floor.

Liu Sang takes a few deep breaths in through his nose and tries to stop his hands from shaking. He's not unfamiliar with death, nor is he unfamiliar with the grotesque. He's seen a lot in his life. But this is different. This could be his brother. Not just some random body that washed up in the river. Wang Can. Having to look at him—really look at him—when his face is so unrecognizable is hard. Almost impossible, when all he can think of, all he can see in his minds' eye, is what must have happened to his brother to cause such terrible wounds.

Standing here avoiding his responsibility isn't helpful, though. If this is his brother, he has a duty to do what's right by him, not bury his head in the sand. Steeling his nerves, Liu Sang pries his eyes open and tries not to let his emotions cloud his objective observations. The body's height and build, and the length and colour of his hair all match his brother perfectly, but that's where Liu Sang's certainty ends. The body's face is bloated and distorted, and made even less recognizable by the deep and angry lacerations left by the rocky river bed. The wounds obscure any discernible features Liu Sang might have tried to use to identify Wang Can.

Maybe it's just his wishful thinking holding out hope that this is someone, anyone, else. But no matter how closely he looks, or how unlikely it is that this person who had been carrying his brother's ID is anyone other than Wang Can, Liu Sang can't give them the absolute certainty they need. Not without the unique personal markers that only the living can reveal to him. “I can't be sure,” he finally admits.

It seems as if Detective Zhang had anticipated this possibility. He doesn't seem angry or frustrated when he reaches out and rests a hand on Liu Sang's shoulder. He has to fight not to flinch at the unexpected touch. “I understand this must be difficult for you,” he says. “Does Mr. Wang have any other distinguishing marks? Birthmarks, tattoos, or scars?”

Liu Sang blinks. Of course. How could he have been so stupid? It should have been the first thing he looked for. “He has a tattoo. A phoenix, on his right shoulder.”

Even as he says it, he can feel a heaviness seep into Detective Zhang's demeanor, as if a weight has settled onto his shoulders, and the look he exchanges with Officer Luo tells Liu Sang all he needs to know.

Officer Luo pulls out a photograph from the case file and hands it to Detective Zhang, who in turn shows it to Liu Sang. “Is this that tattoo?” he asks, tone somber.

All the air seems to punch out of the room. Liu Sang stares unblinkingly at a glossy photograph of the tattoo he's seen a hundred times, a thousand times, on his brother's shoulder.

“What is that?” he asks curiously, bodily spinning Wang Can around despite his protests to get a look at the shape he'd seen peeking out from under the edge of his brother's tank top.

“What the fuck, Liu Sang,” he protests, irritably batting Liu Sang's hands away and ducking away from the infringement on his personal space. “Haven't you ever seen a tattoo before?”

Sticking his tongue out at Wang Can like the mature adult that he is, Liu Sang crosses his arms over his chest and petulantly leans back against the kitchen counter. “Of course I have. I have one, remember?” He taps at the left side of his chest. “But why didn't you tell me you have one? When did you get it?”

For a moment, Wang Can looks at him like he might ignore the question entirely and walk away. But then he sighs, and drags his shirt over his head, turning around so Liu Sang can get a good look.

“Everyone initiated into the Wang Family gets one of these,” he says. “I got this when I was seven. It's how we verify each others' identity and protect against outsiders. Especially undercover cops. They were constantly trying to find a way in, but anyone who can't prove they have one...” He smirks, and draws a finger across his neck.

Liu Sang frowns. “Well okay, but they must know about it by now. Couldn't they just..get one?”

Wang Can's smirk only grows, and he shakes his head. “Look carefully, Liu Sang. Right here.” He contorts his arm to point at a spot on his own shoulder. “See that pattern on the feathers? It's a cipher that spells my name. No two tattoos are exactly the same because all of our names are different, and only the Wang Family leaders know the code. Even if the cops tried to copy one off someone they arrested or whatever, they'd expose themselves and get shot for their trouble.”

It's a simple but admittedly genius contingency plan, he has to admit, and Liu Sang has nothing to say in response. He expects that to be the end of it now that his curiosity has been sated, but unexpectedly, instead of putting his shirt back on and going about his business, Wang Can goes unusually quiet and still.

“Liu Sang,” he starts soberly, and that alone is enough to raise alarm bells in his mind. Any time Wang Can is serious about anything, it makes him nervous. “I want you to memorize that pattern.” He glances back over his shoulder and meets Liu Sang's eye. He's not smirking now. “Every single detail.”

“What? Why?”

“The Wangs are capable of a lot of fucked up shit, you know? They have money and connections, and they're dangerous. And they were probably pissed when I up and left with you.” Wang Can scowls. “It's not like I asked permission or anything.”

He knows all of this. It's why they'd left Beijing in the middle of the night with no warning, no phones, and only a handful of cash between them. Changsha probably wasn't far away enough to truly be free from them, but it was as far as they'd made it on what little they had.

“I don't know what they'll do if they find us,” Wang Can presses on. “So if anything ever happens... At least you'll know it's really me. That way no one can ever try to manipulate you or scam you. And if they do something worse..”

Wang Can had never finished that sentence. But Liu Sang knew how it ended, even then. “If they do something worse, at least you'll be able to identify my body.” He just never thought he would actually...

Detective Zhang, taking Liu Sang's reaction as the confirmation he needs, starts to pull the photograph away so he can return it to the dossier. And that's when he sees it.

It's not right. It's close, nearly identical, but it's not right. A few lines of ink aren't in the right place.

Whoever that is on the table must have been part of the Wang family at some point, but it's not Wang Can.

In the time it takes Detective Zhang to draw the sheet back up over the body's head, Liu Sang's grief fades away, leaving only rage in its wake. Someone planned this. Someone deliberately planted a facsimile of his brother's body in an orchestrated a crime scene, and put Liu Sang through the shock and pain of thinking he lost the most important person in his life forever. And whoever had done all of that must have kidnapped his brother. Because they surely wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of faking his murder just to kill Wang Can somewhere else. He must still be alive.

Fucking bastards. When had they even—

With a sudden, vivid clarity, Liu Sang remembers his nightmare. The bar. The way he'd lost control over his own body, and words stopped making sense. The gaps in his memory. His inability to accurately recognize sounds. Someone escorting him out and into a car. Being taken somewhere, and being suddenly alone. He hadn't been dreaming. He'd been drugged.

At his sides, Liu Sang's hands curl into fists.

The Wang Family has gone too far. When he finds them—and he will find out where they've taken his brother—he's going to—

“Mr. Liu?” Detective Zhang's steady, empathetic voice snaps him back to the present and reminds him of his current situation. “I know this must be very hard for you to accept. We'll do our very best to provide you and Mr. Wang with justice. Would you mind coming with me to answer a few questions? I won't take up much more of your time, but getting some additional information might help us put together a picture of what happened.”

For the first time since he arrived at the morgue, Liu Sang raises his eyes and really looks at Detective Zhang. He's an undeniably handsome man, tall and lithe and younger than Liu Sang would have guessed from his voice and demeanor, but then, given the kinds of things he probably sees on a daily basis, it makes sense that he has a sort of world-weary air about him. There's a sort of calculating intelligence in his dark eyes that makes Liu Sang feel like he's very good at his job. Something that would have put him at ease, if the victim had actually been his brother. He would have trusted Detective Zhang to keep his promise and find the person responsible.

As it stands, though, Liu Sang doesn't give a shit about the body laying on the autopsy table. Whatever he did to get disguised as Wang Can and murdered in his place is none of Liu Sang's business. And if he'd actually been a member of the Wang Family at some point? Good riddance. Liu Sang isn't going to waste time pretending to feel bad that he's dead.

He doesn't want to waste time on this charade anymore, either. Not now that he's sure Wang Can is still alive somewhere.

Inexplicably, there's a small part of him that wants to speak up. Come clean, and tell Detective Zhang that he was wrong, that this isn't Wang Can. That he wasn't murdered after all, he was kidnapped, and that they need to help Liu Sang find him before anything worse happens to him. There's something in the detective's eyes that makes Liu Sang think he might actually care. That he might actually help.

But he learned a long time ago that police aren't to be trusted. Long before he even knew how deep the Wang Family corruption in the ranks ran in Beijing. His belief that they were a force for good died when they'd accused him—a scared and injured fourteen-year-old traumatized by the sudden loss of his entire family—of purposely setting the fire that killed them. Who's going to believe him when all the evidence they have, including Liu Sang's apparent positive identification, indicates that this is indeed Wang Can's body? They'll think he's gone mad with grief, that he's in some kind of denial. Or worse, that he's somehow involved and is lying to save his own skin.

And if the invisible hand of the Wang Family really does reach this far, he can't risk them finding out that he's seen through their plan because he talked to the wrong officer. Wang Can had told him flat out to never trust the police in Beijing because most of them were either Wangs themselves, embedded in every level of the force, or had been bought by them. He can't take a chance that Changsha is any different. He can't disclose what he knows to anyone. Not even Detective Zhang. As long as they think he believes the lie, they'll have no reason to cover their trail. He'll have a better chance of finding Wang Can if they're operating out in the open than he will if they put up safeguards and hide their movements.

Which means that, for now, he has no choice but to play along with the ruse.

Lowering his gaze back to the sheet-covered body on the table, Liu Sang shrinks into himself with a practiced ease. “I'll do whatever it takes to help my brother get justice,” he says, choosing his words carefully and meaning every one of them. “What do you want to know?”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Officer Luo says with the same perfunctory tone, and gestures Liu Sang to follow. “This way, please.”

Without looking, he can feel Detective Zhang's eyes tracking him as he turns away.

Chapter Text

Liu Sang follows the officers out of the morgue, and down a largely different set of hallways than the ones they'd taken originally. Neither one of them speaks, not to him and not to each other, but there's more activity in this part of the building. A few other officers greet Detective Zhang as they pass each other in the hall, chatting more at him than to him since it's clear that he's busy, but it seems that Officer Luo has something of a reputation. Beyond a handful of cursory nods, no one goes out of their way to speak to him. Some even go so far as to skitter to the opposite side of the hall to avoid getting too close, and if he was in any other situation, Liu Sang would burst out laughing at the clear signals of nervousness they give off.

Detective Zhang seems better-liked among the other officers, but even the ones that talk to him broadcast their intimidation and respect to Liu Sang's sensitive ears. It's enough to impart to him a fair amount of information about the sort of person Detective Zhang is, and in spite of himself, in spite of everything he'd just told himself, Liu Sang finds his staunch mistrust of anyone with a badge starting to slip a little.

They reach their destination, and Liu Sang is ushered into a small but comfortably appointed room, with a desk and a few chairs. It doesn't look much like the interrogation rooms he's seen on television—the last time he was questioned by police, he was in a hospital burn ward, so he's not sure how accurate those are anyway—but he can hear the whir of recording equipment hidden in the walls. Whatever he says here is going to end up on tape. So he absolutely can't tell them anything about Wang Can's history with the Wang Family. The last thing Liu Sang wants is to land his brother in prison for his involvement in organized crime the moment he gets him back.

Detective Zhang pours a measure of tea into an insulated cardboard cup and holds it out to him, then gestures for him to have a seat. He pours a second cup and offers it to Officer Luo, who declines. Shrugging, Detective Zhang sips from it himself, and takes up a seat behind the desk. Officer Luo also declines to sit, choosing instead to stand against the wall with an open note pad and glare at Liu Sang as if he's offended him in some way. Or maybe it's just his job to play dual roles as secretary and 'bad cop'.

“Normally I would begin by asking you about your relation to Mr. Wang, but in this case, I think I wouldn't be very good at my job if I couldn't at least hazard a guess. For the record, he is your brother?” Detective Zhang's tone is casual and conversational, but Liu Sang can hear the edge lurking underneath. Even if this doesn't look like a stereotypical interrogation, he's under no illusion that it's anything else.

“Yes. We're twins,” he confirms.

“That does explain the resemblance,” Detective Zhang replies with a smile. “But I haven't met many sets of twins with different surnames.”

At least Liu Sang has a lot of experience with questions like this. The excuse comes readily, and there's enough truth to it that it's long since stopped sounding like a lie to his own ears. “We were split up when we were pretty young and raised separately. I didn't even know I had a full brother, much less a twin, until we met by chance a few years ago. We reconnected, and have been close ever since,” he says, glossing over the fact that their separation had come at the hands of human traffickers, and Wang Can's surname was the unfortunate product of an abusive and violent childhood meant to instill unwavering loyalty to a family that wasn't his own.

He has to catch himself before he crushes the half-full cup in his hands in the wake of a renewed flood of rage. Not only for this moment, but for everything Wang Can ever suffered because of them.

It doesn't escape Detective Zhang's notice, but luckily he seems to mistake it for an emotional reflex, and softens his tone. “I'm sorry. I can't imagine what it must feel like to lose him again after so little time,” he says, and there's genuine sympathy in his voice. “Can you think of anyone who would want to harm your brother?”

Liu Sang has to bite back a scoff, because quite clearly, he can. But he's hardly about to confess to a detective that Wang Can escaped from the mob, and has had a target on his back ever since. Instead, he shakes his head. “No,” he lies. “We haven't lived in Changsha very long, and mostly keep to ourselves. If Wang Can had been having problems with someone, he would have told me.”

Detective Zhang hums thoughtfully. “What about the two of you? Did you ever have problems with each other?”

“Have you ever met brothers who didn't fight sometimes?” Liu Sang asks rhetorically, hiding a wistful smile behind a sip of tea. “We have our share of disagreements, but they've never come to blows. We—” He abruptly cuts himself off before he can admit that the two of them only survived because of their reliance on each other. But Detective Zhang is watching him intently, and Liu Sang can tell by the way he draws a breath that he's going to press him to finish his sentence. “Neither one of us had it easy growing up. We don't have any other family left, and we spent too much of our lives not knowing about each other,” he continues before he can be prompted. “We didn't want to waste time being mad at each other over petty disagreements.”

The breath Detective Zhang had taken to speak is let out again in a soft, controlled exhale. Liu Sang hasn't fully won him over yet; he still harbours some suspicion, but the hardness that's underlined his tone so far has started to soften, and he'd definitely gotten a reflexive sympathetic reaction when he'd said they only have each other. Something about that must have resonated with Detective Zhang. So far, he's giving every indication that he believes what Liu Sang is telling him. And in turn, Liu Sang almost feels guilty for lying to him.

Almost.

“I understand,” Detective Zhang says, and means it, much to Liu Sang's surprise. “Were the two of you together last night?”

Liu Sang nods again. “Wang Can liked to go out on Friday nights, so we went to our usual place, Club Moonlight, for a few drinks. I...” he trails off, ducking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck—and finding a sore spot he hadn't noticed until now. “I must have had a few too many. I don't actually remember very much of what happened. I guess Wang Can made sure I got home safely, though, since I woke up in our apartment. I was pretty hung over so I don't think I could have gotten back on my own. But Wang Can wasn't there. I thought he'd just gone out to run some errands, but... I didn't know he was... Until Officer Luo knocked on the door to tell me what had happened.”

He can already tell the 'I don't remember' excuse isn't going to fly with Detective Zhang, but before he can press Liu Sang for anything else, there's a coincidental knock at this door, too. The elevated pulse and quick, short breaths of the officer outside are the result of more than just exertion. That sounds different. This is excitement. Whatever information he has that's worth interrupting an interview for must be of the utmost importance. Detective Zhang seems to realize as much; when he excuses himself, there's only the faintest hint of irritation in his voice.

Inside the room, Liu Sang sips his rapidly cooling tea and pretends to wait patiently for Detective Zhang's return, ever aware of Officer Luo's scrutiny. In reality, he focuses on the conversation happening out in the hallway and listens intently to every word the officer says, particularly after he mentions security camera footage. Maybe he can learn something about where the Wangs took his brother after they left the bar. But he's left disappointed when the officer says they're still combing through the various feeds. He hears Detective Zhang give the officer the bar's name, and a rough estimate of the time he and Wang Can had been there, presumably to narrow down their search, but it's clear they haven't yet spotted them on any of the security footage. Liu Sang is about to stop paying attention when the officer starts summarizing their additional findings at the crime scene—since the body isn't Wang Can's, he's not interested in that at all—but one detail echoes in his ears and makes his his breath catch in his throat.

The officers found a phone. Based on the brief description, they found his phone. Not far from where 'Wang Can' was shot and killed. Waterlogged and damaged, but they're working on extracting data to identify the owner.

For the first time, it dawns on him just how precarious a position he's currently in. He should have suspected it. He should have known the Wangs wouldn't be satisfied with simply drugging him and convincing him that his brother was dead. That they'd try to kill two birds with one stone, and get their revenge not only on Wang Can for turning his back on them, but on him, the one who dared to steal their asset from them.

That they'd plant false evidence and frame him for his own brother's murder.

And here he is sitting in the tiger's den. With no solid alibi, and a growing list of evidence—if the officer outside is any indication—that places him at the scene and links him to the crime. Liu Sang doesn't know what else the police have that would 'prove' he'd killed his brother last night, but there must be something. The Wang Family is too organized, too meticulous to leave it to chance that his phone and maybe some security camera footage would be enough. They won't be able to charge Liu Sang with murder just because he might have been nearby. The Wangs must have planted sufficient evidence—compelling evidence—to guarantee that Liu Sang wouldn't be able to escape the charges against him. It's just that so far, the police haven't made the connection to him yet. If they had, Detective Zhang would have arrested him instead of simply interviewing him.

But it's only a matter of time, of that much, he's certain. How much time, though, he can't say. Don't these cases generally take more than a few hours to build? That should be enough time for them to finish asking their questions and let him go. Shouldn't it?

All he knows for sure is that he can't still be here when they inevitably get the concrete link between him and their evidence and formally charge him with murder. If he's going to find his brother, he needs his freedom. At the same time, though, he can't look too desperate to leave. He volunteered to help; it'll only arouse Detective Zhang's suspicions if he's suddenly too eager to end the conversation. If it had actually been Wang Can in the morgue, Liu Sang would have stayed as long as they wanted, and told them whatever they wanted to know to help them catch the person responsible. He has to make them believe that's still what he's willing to do.

After a few more status updates from the officer, and a few signatures put on documents, Detective Zhang returns, apologizing for making Liu Sang wait.

“It's fine,” he assures, putting on a polite smile and pretending not to notice the silent questions that pass between Detective Zhang and Officer Luo about his behaviour in the detective's absence. “I'm relieved that my brother's case is being handled so diligently. I don't mind waiting if it means you're able to make more progress.”

Liu Sang can tell Detective Zhang wasn't expecting the compliment, and it throws him for a moment. He's subtly pleased by it, though, and the heightened suspicion that had come with Liu Sang's claim that he can't remember anything about last night fades again. He's never particularly liked manipulating people's emotions with his abilities, but no one can deny that he is good at it. As long as he can keep himself on good terms with Detective Zhang, Liu Sang is confident he can steer the questioning to a natural ending point.

Ultimately, though, Liu Sang's salvation comes from a place that he could never have predicted- his own stomach. It takes only one well-timed growl of hunger—and his sheepish admission that he had skipped both breakfast and lunch on account of his hangover—for Detective Zhang to apologize again for keeping him so long, and send him on his way with the detective's contact information in his pocket if he “remembers anything else about the previous night”.

For reasons he can't explain and despite his rational mind telling him otherwise, Liu Sang keeps it instead of immediately throwing it into the bin when he arrives home and starts to plan his next steps.

Chapter Text

Zhang Rishan drags his hands over his face and leans back in his desk chair until his spine pops. His shift technically ended three hours ago, but it doesn't seem like he's going to be going home any time soon.

The Wang Can case should have been an easy one. They have a body. They have a clear cause of death. They have a murder weapon complete with fingerprints. They have an intact scene, a tentative timeline of events, more camera footage than they know what to do with, a phone that might well belong to the perpetrator, and even a witness statement. In fact, he has more physical evidence in this case that any other case he's had in recent memory.

The only thing they don't have is a suspect in custody.

Despite all the evidence, none of it has yielded conclusive results. They know someone is responsible for shooting Wang Can and dumping his body in the river two days ago. They just don't know who it is yet.

Which brings him to the conundrum that is Liu Sang.

If anyone had asked him for his initial impression, he'd have said unequivocally that Liu Sang had nothing to do with his brother's murder. Years of experience have made Zhang Rishan a pretty good judge of both character and human behaviour, and in this case, every instinct he had had been telling him that Liu Sang's shock and grief had been real. Luo Que and Kan Jian had also both independently confirmed that Liu Sang had seemed genuinely shocked to learn of his brother's death. Reactions like that are hard to fake convincingly. Or, convincingly enough to get past both him and Luo Que, in any case.

But then it had felt like a switch had been flipped. The moment Liu Sang had confirmed Wang Can's identity, he had changed. Zhang Rishan can't put his finger on exactly how; on the surface, nothing had changed at all. Liu Sang had been helpful and cooperative, answering every question Zhang Rishan had for him without hesitation—sometimes even preempting his questions to offer additional information—and the things he'd told them that could be verified had all proven true. CCTV footage of the bar had shown Liu Sang and Wang Can arrive, have a few rounds of drinks, and leave again a few hours later, with Wang Can visibly supporting a rather inebriated Liu Sang, exactly as he'd described. They were still working on following their movements once they'd left the area covered by the bar's cameras, but there hadn't seemed to be any looming conflict between them at the time.

Neither had he seemed agitated or upset about being questioned; even when he'd left the room, Luo Que had reported that he'd merely waited patiently for Zhang Rishan to return. There's nothing in Liu Sang's behaviour—either at the station, or in the video footage from the bar—that even hints that he'd suddenly turned on his brother and shot him to death.

And yet Zhang Rishan can't shake the suspicion that Liu Sang had been lying to him. At the very least, he hadn't been telling the entire truth about not remembering anything, and knows more than he had been willing to say. He'd never outright refused to answer one of Zhang Rishan's questions, and yet more than once, he'd had the gut feeling that Liu Sang's response was intentionally opaque. That he'd compensated for deflecting on certain topics by offering more than he'd been asked for on others. It was an effective distraction technique that had admittedly left Zhang Rishan feeling more than a little conflicted, because Liu Sang's demeanor, atypical of a man guilty of murder, is hard to reconcile with their mounting evidence that says otherwise.

Their lone witness so far—oddly enough, the same fisherman who had found Wang Can's body—had admitted under questioning that he'd been out by the river organizing his fishing equipment the night before and overheard a heated argument between two men whose voices had sounded similar. According to him, he'd said he thought it was just one drunk person arguing aloud with himself, until the two men had started shouting over each other. He claims he'd gotten scared when he heard gunshots and ran away, only realizing someone had been killed when he returned to his boat in the morning and found the body. When shown Liu Sang's picture, however, he had been unable to say for certain that the second man had been him, claiming that it had been dark, and he was far away.

The fisherman's testimony is corroborated by the street cameras closest to the crime scene. Once they'd been able to narrow down their timeline based on the information Liu Sang had provided, what could have been hours of analysis had been cut down to mere minutes. All they'd had to do was to estimate the time it would take to walk from the bar to the riverside trail, give or take fifteen minutes to account for Liu Sang's inebriation. And it had paid off. Although the cameras don't record audio, Zhang Rishan now has footage of what appears to be Liu Sang and Wang Can—he supposes there could be two other people of similar height and build dressed exactly like them, but it seems unlikely—gesticulating at each other as they approached the path under the bridge late last evening. A few minutes later, only one man leaves the area, running off on foot. Unfortunately for him, the cameras along the trail are old, with poor resolution, and their attempts at facial recognition had been no more conclusive than the fisherman.

Which gives them something to work off of, but not enough. An inconclusive witness statement and some grainy footage of what might be an argument won't support a murder charge, and they certainly weren't enough to keep Liu Sang detained when he'd given them no reason to suspect him.

They need more. They need forensics results.

Zhang Rishan is startled out of his thoughts by a floating coffee cup appearing in front of him out of nowhere. “Still trying to figure out whether he's guilty or not?” Luo Que smirks down at him from the other side of his desk and clicks his tongue. “It's not like you to be so indecisive.”

“It's not like next-of-kin to be less upset after they've confirmed the victim's identity, either,” he mumbles, taking the cup and downing half the contents in one go. The bitterness makes him grimace. He really doesn't care much for coffee, but it's a necessary evil if he wants to keep his eyes open and his mind sharp. “If I didn't know better, I'd suspect that the person in the morgue isn't his brother at all. It's like he suddenly stopped caring.”

The almost immediate change in Liu Sang, and the way he had looked at Zhang Rishan as he'd covered the body again had been... 'Disturbing' isn't the right word. He's looked into the eyes of murderers more times than he can count, and is familiar with the kind of emotionless detachment he often sees there. It's usually present even before the ruse drops. This wasn't quite the same. Liu Sang's eyes hadn't been cold or hateful. But Zhang Rishan had felt at the time as if Liu Sang had looked not at him but through him. As if perceiving his very soul, judging it unworthy of enlightenment, and yet still daring him to find the hidden truth of which Liu Sang is the only keeper.

In addition to apparently turning him into a philosopher, it makes him feel like he's missing something. He can't say why, but his interactions with Liu Sang both in the morgue and in the interview room have left the impression that there's more to this case. That it's not as straightforward as it seems, and not looking at it beyond what he can see on the surface will lead him to the wrong conclusion. But how else is he supposed to look at it?

“Well, I might be able to give you some insight on that,” Luo Que continues, somehow responding to his unspoken rhetorical question. For one brief moment, Zhang Rishan wonders if maybe he's psychic. Until he realizes that's ridiculous, and he's still talking about the case. “Some of the lab results are back.” He slides a file folder across the desk, and summarizes the information there as Zhang Rishan flips through the pages of findings. “First, the body is indeed Wang Can. DNA and dental records both confirmed it. And the cause of death was the gunshot wound to his chest. No water found in his lungs, so he was dead before he went into the river. Second, Zhai Xingyao finished pulling data off the phone and is as confident as he can be about its owner. Do you want to take a guess?”

Frowning, Zhang Rishan flips forward a few pages in the report until he finds Zhai Xingyao's summary. Their technology expert is nothing if not meticulous, and has described in detail every step of his process, and every file he managed to recover. Most of it is either irrelevant to the case or indecipherable tech gibberish, strings of numbers and letters that make no sense to him. But one page contains information that he needs no help to understand. The name associated with the account on the SIM card is... “Liu Sang.”

Luo Que nods. “The damage to the phone seems consistent with being dropped onto hard ground and exposed to water, which fits the description of where it was found.”

“Okay, so we can place him at the scene at the time of the murder,” Zhang Rishan muses aloud. But it still doesn't feel like enough. “What else? Is there anything to suggest he's the one who pulled the trigger? What do we actually know about him?”

Giving him a slightly odd look—probably because he's never gone out of his way to give a suspect the benefit of the doubt before—Luo Que pulls out another file folder. “I ran a background check after the phone traced back to him,” he says, flipping it open. “Liu Sang, age 26, birth date April 15. His birth records are identical to Wang Can's, apart from the name. Moved around a lot as a kid. Spent some time in foster care between his mother's death and going to live with his father. It does seem like he was being truthful about him and Wang Can being raised separately—there's no mention of him in Liu Sang's records beyond birth announcements. Actually, there's not much mention of him anywhere after that.” He frowns for a moment, shrugs, and goes back to his file.

“Liu Sang, on the other hand, has a reasonably straightforward and easy to follow history. Schooling, medical records, nothing too far outside of ordinary until he spent time in a hospital burn ward at age 14, then moved to a remote rural village—the kind that doesn't keep very good records, when they keep them at all—with his grandmother. He disappeared off the radar until her death, then started leaving employment and rental records again. His last known address was in Beijing, and then here in Changsha. Nothing jumps out as suspicious. He currently works as a freelance corporate consultant, whatever that means, and makes pretty good money doing it. There are some fairly substantial payments here.”

Frowning, Zhang Rishan drums his fingers on his desk. “Do you think it's a cover for something less than legal?”

Though he seems to consider the possibility for a moment, Luo Que ultimately dismisses the idea. “Any description of what he actually does for these companies is next to impossible to find, but all of his work seems to be above board. He's paid on the record, and pays taxes on all of his income.” He pauses, and flips a page in the folder. “There is one strange thing, though.”

Zhang Rishan raises a quizzical brow and gestures Luo Que to continue.

“There's a sealed file in his records. Based on the date, it seems consistent with the time he spent in the hospital, but even the most basic information is redacted. I'm not sure I've ever seen anything like it in a background check before, even for incidents concerning minors.”

Humming his agreement that it is indeed peculiar but perhaps not very relevant, given that it was over ten years ago, Zhang Rishan runs his thumb absently over the edge of the file folder, flicking the corner while he considers his options. “Do we have anything back yet from Ballistics?”

Luo Que shakes his head. “They're still waiting for Forensics to finish processing the weapon. Which means we don't have results on the fingerprint analysis yet either.” He pauses for a moment, then smirks around his lollipop. “And before you ask, yes, I already threatened them. Unfortunately, Dr. Huo was the one on duty in the lab so...”

“Ah,” Zhang Rishan says, needing no further explanation. Huo Daofu, Forensic Pathologist, is irritatingly immune to intimidation tactics, and surprisingly protective of the technicians under his supervision. If Luo Que had dared bully Yang Hao or Su Wan... Nevermind. Next time, he'll send Kan Jian. His exuberant personality can make anyone cave to his requests. “What about the officers keeping an eye on Liu Sang?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Luo Que leans his hip against Zhang Rishan's desk. “They haven't reported anything suspicious. Seems he wasn't lying about keeping to himself, either. According to them, he rarely leaves the apartment and hasn't spoken to anyone except the landlady, when he informed her of Wang Can's death and delivered next month's rent. If he's trying to destroy evidence, or is planning on skipping town or something, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it.”

With modern technology, that is, unfortunately for them, not difficult. Gone are the days when travel arrangements could only be made in person, and would leave a paper trail in their wake. Now, Liu Sang could have booked a flight out of the country, moved his assets around to ensure access to funds while on the run, or even searched “how to get away with murder” and no one would be any wiser. Without a warrant to examine Liu Sang's recent online activity, there's no way of knowing what he's been planning or what he might do.

If he's planning to do anything at all.

Zhang Rishan's continued state of vexation over Liu Sang must show on his face.

“I just gave you more evidence that puts him at the scene, and you still don't think he looks good for it?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Zhang Rishan tips his head back and groans. “I do,” he says slowly, “but that's the problem. He looks too good for it. What the evidence says, and what he's said—not so much in words, but behaviourally—don't add up. And if he's smart enough to play us, and a good enough actor that he can convince both of us of his genuine shock and grief, why would he leave so much evidence behind that all points right back to him?”

Luo Que's eyes narrow. “Are you sick? When is the last time you slept? Since when do you complain about having too much evidence?”

Huffing a soft, breathy laugh, Zhang Rishan has to admit that it sounds ridiculous when put that way. “Maybe you're right. I just can't help but think something's not sitting right about this case, or about Liu Sang's involvement. It's too easy. Too obvious.”

“And it has nothing to do with the fact that you think he's hot?”

Zhang Rishan's head snaps up so fast something else in his spine pops. “Of course not! He's still a person of interest in this case. He just doesn't act like he's guilty of murder, that's all.”

Luo Que's shoulders shake with silent laughter, and he leans in, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. “But you're not denying you think he's hot?”

Fighting the urge to throw a stapler at his deputy's head, he settles for swatting at his arm instead, but Luo Que is faster. He deftly dodges the half-hearted attack, and backs out of range, leaving Zhang Rishan powerless to do anything but scowl at him and his stupidly perceptive face. “It's late. Go home, Luo Que,” he grumbles. “Tomorrow, I want you to see what you can do about opening that sealed file.” He pauses a moment, and considers what Luo Que had told him about Wang Can. “And indulge me. Run a background check on Wang Can, too.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Luo Que replies, barely concealing an eyeroll on his way out the door.

Glancing at the glowing clock on his desk, Zhang Rishan waits until he's gone before he closes his case file and stands. It's well past time for him to leave too. But before he goes home, he has one more stop to make.

Chapter Text

“Detective Zhang?” Liu Sang puts as much confused surprise into his voice as he can when he answers the knock at his door, given that he'd identified the man the moment he stepped out of his car. “What are you doing here?” That question, at least, is genuine. Not that he hasn't been expecting another visit from the police at some point. But it's late in the evening and Detective Zhang is alone. If he's here to make an arrest, he's certainly not doing it by the book.

“I apologize for not informing you of my visit first,” he starts, his expression appropriately diffident but not sounding remorseful in the slightest, “but I have some new information about your brother's case that I'd like to share with you, and a few more questions about that night. It turns out your apartment is on my way home, so I decided to stop by in person. Do you have a few minutes?”

It's half-true at best, and Liu Sang can hear the unspoken test in Detective Zhang's words. Not letting him in and hearing him out would only strengthen his suspicion that Liu Sang has something to hide. Which of course he does, but not about that. No doubt whatever this 'new information' is, it has to do with him and his apparent guilt, though. Maybe they've figured out the phone is his. In any case, he is actually curious to know what additional breadcrumbs the Wangs have left for the police to find—and how willing the police are to eat them up—and so he takes a step back. “Please, come in,” he says, holding the door open so Detective Zhang can pass by him.

Liu Sang turns to close the door behind him, pausing briefly when he catches the sound of his own private surveillance squad retreating down the block. The reprieve should be a relief, but instead, it sends an anxious shiver down Liu Sang's spine. Whatever Detective Zhang wants to do here, he doesn't want any witnesses. And while it's unlikely he's here to do Liu Sang any real harm—he seems too honourable a man to do something like rough him up or try to silence him—he isn't willing to outright dismiss the possibility that he's on the Wang's payroll.

Behind his back, the floorboards creak softly under Detective Zhang's feet, and he tenses in anticipation, but the footsteps move away from him, not towards. Liu Sang doesn't need to be looking at him to recognize the telltale signs of a subtle environmental assessment. As if he thought his sudden and unannounced arrival might have caught Liu Sang off-guard and in the middle of...whatever it is Detective Zhang suspects him of doing these last few days.

If he was anyone else, it might have worked. But Liu Sang has spent the last two days with one ear constantly following the police activity outside his apartment. That awareness gave him ample opportunity to clear away any and all trace of his own investigation into his brother's whereabouts. And his preparations to leave at a moments' notice the second he figures out where he needs go. There's nothing left for Detective Zhang to see, unless he goes snooping around without a warrant.

As it is, the only thing he's intentionally made visible on the off chance that anyone comes to visit is the small memorial he's constructed for Wang Can. Even though he finds it horribly inauspicious to memorialize someone who isn't dead, Liu Sang feels it's necessary to maintain the illusion that he's devastated by the loss. He has to at least pretend to care, or he'll look even more guilty than he probably already does. And so he's gone through the motions for the benefit of anyone—like Detective Zhang—who might find the absence of any sign of grief conspicuous.

It seems it's the right call; Detective Zhang's eyes are drawn instantly to the flickering candles and the white-draped photograph of his brother. He even goes so far as to light some of the incense sticks and place them next to the ones Liu Sang has burning. It's...a surprisingly genuine and considerate gesture, and so unexpected that Liu Sang doesn't quite know what to do with it, save stand awkwardly off to one side until Detective Zhang is done. Despite the false premise, he can't help but feel touched in spite of himself, because there's nothing performative about it on the detective's end. Just an honest respect for a dead man he'd never even met in life.

Some of the tension seeps out of Liu Sang's body. For a cop, this Detective Zhang isn't so bad.

“Can I get you some tea?” Liu Sang asks as he leads the way into the kitchen, and gestures for Detective Zhang to have a seat at the table. Without waiting for an answer, he fills the pot and puts it on the burner to heat. “Please forgive the mess,” he adds, clearing away a few stray take-away containers and dirty dishes. “I wasn't expecting company at this hour.” He gives Detective Zhang a thin, weary smile, and adds, “And handling Wang Can's affairs hasn't left much time for housework.”

His words have the desired effect. Detective Zhang stops surreptitiously studying his new surroundings and focuses in on Liu Sang. “Of course,” he replies, waving off the apology. “The fault is mine. You're grieving. I should have been more considerate and called first, instead of showing up on your doorstep unannounced.”

“It's fine,” he replies, busying himself with measuring out the tea leaves to distract from the fact that Detective Zhang's apology is more genuine this time. It really is a shame, he thinks as he steals a few subtle glances over his shoulder at the man sitting at his kitchen table. They might have hit it off, if it wasn't for the whole 'being a suspect in his own twin brother's fake murder' thing. Detective Zhang really is very attractive. For a cop. But he doesn't have time to entertain those thoughts. Not until he gets Wang Can back.

Shoving them away, he closes up the tea container and drops the diffuser into the pot. “Having company is a welcome change. It's been too quiet since..” Liu Sang trails off, his hands wavering in their task as the truth in his own words hits him harder than he's expecting. Knowing intellectually that Wang Can is only missing and not dead hasn't made dealing with his sudden absence any easier. Especially when so far, he has no leads at all on where they might have taken his brother, or what they might be doing to him. He doubts it's anything pleasant, and every second he spends stuck here without any clues only makes him feel more useless.

“Anyway, you said you had an update on the case?” Liu Sang pours two cups of tea once it's done steeping, and sets one down in front of Detective Zhang before taking his own and settling into the chair across from him. His fingers curl around the ceramic, letting the heat sink into his skin. It doesn't escape him that the detective doesn't dare taste his tea until Liu Sang has taken a sip first. He vaguely wonders if there's a story behind that level of caution, or if it just comes with the job, and tries not to find it so inappropriately amusing that Detective Zhang seems to think there's at least a slight possibility that Liu Sang would poison him in his own home, with police stationed just outside.

“Mm,” Detective Zhang hums, taking another long sip before sliding his half-empty cup off to one side. “First, I received the lab results today that independently confirmed Wang Can's identity via DNA and dental records. If you had any lingering doubts due to the condition of his body, I hope this can put them to rest and provide you the necessary closure.”

It doesn't, of course, but it does give him some insight into the true scope of the Wang Family's capabilities. It's one thing to dress up a corpse, take his phone, and fabricate a murder scene. It's another thing entirely to alter records in a national database to substantiate their charade without raising any alarms that they'd done it. If Wang Can hadn't been so adamant about him memorizing every detail of that tattoo, or if he'd been just a little bit less aware of what had actually happened that night, even he might start to question whether he'd been wrong in his identification.

But he's not wrong, and he won't let the Wangs gaslight him into taking the blame for something he definitely didn't do, regardless of who the dead guy actually is. Now more than ever, it's imperative for him to stay in Detective Zhang's good graces—and out of police custody—long enough to plan his escape. If the Wang Family can invent whatever evidence they want and make it convincing, his only choice is to take his chances and get out of Changsha. He hasn't found any evidence that they've been keeping his brother here anyway. Most likely they've taken him back to their home turf in Beijing. So that's where he'll go. He can't wait around for them to drive the final nail into the coffin and hand the police the damning evidence they need to arrest him.

And Liu Sang has no doubt now that it will happen, one way or another. The Wangs have a vested interest in making sure he takes the blame. If he's in jail on murder charges, then he can't interfere with whatever plans they have for his brother. So it's all but a certainty that there will eventually be irrefutable evidence that he's the one who murdered 'Wang Can'. Even if Detective Zhang doesn't have it yet.

If he did, he wouldn't be here alone, fishing for some kind of admission of guilt from Liu Sang. He wouldn't still have doubt in his voice when he speaks of the evidence they do have.

“Second,” Detective Zhang continues, “we've been working tirelessly to narrow down a suspect pool, but we could use your help. A witness near the crime scene claims he heard two men arguing, and then heard gunshots. Security camera footage from the footpath along the river confirms his testimony, and also reveals a suspect running from the scene shortly after.” He pauses, and meets Liu Sang's eyes unblinkingly. “Do you know who Wang Can might have been fighting with?”

Liu Sang frowns. A footpath along the river? His memory of where the Wangs took him after leaving the bar is hazy at best, and full of gaps, but he doesn't remember being anywhere near the river. Although... He does remember the sound of fireworks. Had those actually been gunshots? It's possible. But he was definitely still in the back of a vehicle when he heard them. It might have been parked near the river, but he's as certain as he can be that he never left the car that night. And with all the sedatives they'd given him, he sure as hell hadn't been capable of running anywhere.

So the Wangs had not only planted evidence, they'd had someone impersonate him on camera at the crime scene. Or they had the ability to doctor the footage to make it look like he'd been there. Either way, it's another strike against him that will be almost impossible to deny. His fingers clench around his cup. Was the so-called 'witness' their man, too? A random bystander would have been a liability if they'd been staging a crime scene; it's not like them to overlook a loose end like that. But who would suspect a poor innocent witness who just happened to be in the perfect spot to overhear everything? Surely he wouldn't have any reason to lie to the police.

Only belatedly, Liu Sang realizes that Detective Zhang had asked him a question. And asked it in a way that makes it clear he's already reached a conclusion on who the other person was. He's just giving Liu Sang a way to confess of his own volition. But he won't roll over and let the Wangs bury him without a fight.

“I don't know,” he says instead. “I already told you, I don't really remember anything that happened that night. I was too drunk to even walk a straight line without help, much less run without tripping over my own feet.” Liu Sang pastes a self-deprecating smile on his face. “I want to know who took my brother away from me as much as you do, but I had nothing to do with it. I have no idea why Wang Can would have been down by the river that night, or who he would have been talking to, but if he was there, he must have gone back after he took me home. It's not exactly on the way to our apartment, and with how hot it's been lately, I'm sure he would have taken the shortest route possible if he was supporting me the entire way.”

Liu Sang has never gotten blackout drunk before, but he knows for a fact that if he ever did, Wang Can would drag his ass straight home and probably beat the shit out of him the next day for making him do all the heavy lifting. He certainly wouldn't take Liu Sang out for a casual stroll in the opposite direction while carrying his dead weight. Especially not in the middle of a heat wave. The Wang Family's fictional narrative of the night's events, while compelling, makes no logical sense.

Maybe it's futile to try and make Detective Zhang see that in the long run. Once there's concrete 'proof' of Liu Sang's guilt, whether or not it makes logical sense probably won't matter anymore. But for now, while he still can, it's important to him to sow and cultivate these seeds of doubt. Not only because it's beneficial to him, but because the truth still matters. It matters to him, and he thinks it might matter to Detective Zhang, too. Because he could have blindly accepted what his evidence so far has told him. He could have stormed in and dragged Liu Sang back to the station in handcuffs to scream in his face and intimidate a confession out of him like the last cop who had accused him of murder. But instead, he's sitting here at Liu Sang's kitchen table, drinking tea and asking questions. Leading questions, to be sure, but at least he's not already treating Liu Sang as if he's a cold-blooded killer. Detective Zhang doesn't seem like he's willing to risk ruining an innocent man's reputation with an accusation of murder unless he has proof.

It makes Liu Sang think that maybe—if he's ever backed into a corner and forced to admit he was framed by the Wang Family—maybe Detective Zhang would consider it possible, instead of immediately writing him off as a fratricidal liar, willing to say anything to save his own skin.

To his credit, Detective Zhang does seem to pause for a moment to do the mental calculations before he presses on with his questioning. “If you weren't near the river with Wang Can that night, can you explain why we discovered a phone registered to an account in your name near the scene?”

Ah, so they had managed to pull his information off the phone. One more strike against him. No wonder Detective Zhang sounds so conflicted. He has lots of evidence pointing to Liu Sang, but only enough to show he was there, not that he killed Wang Can with his own hands. Not yet, anyway. Or he'd have probably lead with that.

“I think it was stolen,” Liu Sang answers truthfully. “When I woke up the next day, I wanted to call Wang Can to ask where he was, and I realized I didn't have it on me. I thought maybe I'd accidentally left it at the bar and not realized. Actually, I was on my way out the door to look for it when Officer Luo and Kan Jian came to tell me what had happened.” He pauses, frowning in thought. “In retrospect, I guess it's also possible Wang Can picked it up for me. Maybe he had it on him when...” Liu Sang trails off. “But I couldn't have known that at the time.”

“You didn't think to mention it, or file a report that it had gone missing while you were at the station?”

Liu Sang slowly shakes his head. “To be honest, I wasn't thinking about my phone at all. And after I got home...it just didn't seem that important in the grand scheme of things, you know? I had too many other things on my mind, and too many other things that needed to be done.”

He doesn't want to lay it on too thick or sound like he's fishing for sympathy. Being too melodramatic about his own feelings would push the bounds of credibility. But this tactic of putting exactly the right inflection in his tone does seem effective. Liu Sang can hear the subtle sounds of Detective Zhang's uncertainty every time he brings up his apparent anguish over Wang Can's death. Maintaining his image as the grieving brother is his best chance to keep Detective Zhang's charity towards him intact. The noose may be tightening with this new evidence, but he hasn't yet lost his last chance to escape.

The air in Detective Zhang's lungs leaves him in a soft sigh, and he nods. “I apologize. Of course you wouldn't be thinking of such trivial matters, all things considered.” Apparently finished for now, he pushes his chair back from the table and climbs to his feet. “It's getting late. I won't intrude upon your hospitality any longer.” He holds out his hand to Liu Sang, who rises and takes it. “Thank you for taking the time to indulge me. I only have one more question.” Detective Zhang's grip tightens, leaving him unable to withdraw his hand. “Are you, or have you ever been in possession of a firearm?”

“What?” he blurts out, the question actually catching him off-guard. It isn't one he anticipated, and he's left wholly unprepared to answer it in any kind of convincingly truthful way. Largely because there is an illegal handgun hidden under the loose floorboards in the back of Wang Can's closet. “Just in case,” Wang Can had said when he'd put it there. It's the first thing Liu Sang had checked once he'd realized waking up on his sofa meant that the Wangs must have been inside his home. But they'd either not thought to conduct a search for weapons, or not found it if they had. It's still there. And so he can do nothing to mask his hesitation and the way his fingers twitch reflexively when he finally brings himself to respond, “No, never.”

Chapter Text

Luo Que manages to earn Zhang Rishan's forgiveness while maintaining his status as 'Most Valuable Deputy' when he walks through his office door with two file folders and a cup of strong tea from his favourite cafe early the next day. Luo Que sets down the cardboard cup on his desk, and then holds up one file in each hand. “I have one unsealed juvenile file, and one background check. Which one do you want first?”

Taking a long draught, Zhang Rishan savours the taste and tries hard not to compare it to the tea Liu Sang had given him in his kitchen last night. Mostly because that reminds him of just how inappropriate it had been to sit down and have tea with Liu Sang in his kitchen last night. He'd overstepped the line of professionalism, and despite having answers to some of his questions because of it, in hindsight he regrets having done so in an unofficial capacity. None of what Liu Sang had told him would be admissible as evidence, and if anyone—even Luo Que—finds out about his impromptu visit and accuses him of improper conduct, it could very well jeopardize the entire case.

“Give me the report on Wang Can first,” he replies, forcibly shoving his thoughts to the side. Liu Sang is still their top suspect; he can't allow himself to think of him in any other way. The fact that he's going out on a pretty narrow limb to follow this hunch of his has nothing to do with Liu Sang whatsoever, and he's definitely not stalling to avoid finding out what's in that sealed file. “What can you tell me about him?”

“Honestly? Not much,” Luo Que says, pulling a chair up to Zhang Rishan's desk and settling into it. “I have his birth records, some early pre-schooling information, his mother's death certificate, and then...nothing.”

“Nothing?” Zhang Rishan parrots, frowning and leaning his elbows on his desk.

Luo Que shakes his head. “There are records of Liu Sang and Wang Can—born Liu Can—being transferred into foster care after their mother's death. But then Liu Sang continues to leave a paper trail of records, while Wang Can disappears completely for nearly two decades. Like he just stopped existing, until he reappeared with a different surname. But even then, there are almost no traces of him prior to his arrival in Changsha. All I could learn about him was that he also lived in Beijing before coming here with Liu Sang.”

“His surname changed to Wang?” Zhang Rishan's frown deepens. The specifics in Luo Que's report ping around in his mind until they land in the proper alignment and trigger a long-forgotten memory. “Before Fo-ye was promoted to Inspector General of Changsha, he was a detective in Beijing. This must have been right after he took that job—I couldn't have been more than thirteen or so. But I clearly remember him being bothered by one of his cases. A series of child abductions, some of whom were later found murdered. I'd never seen him so upset by a case before.”

Scratching absently at his chin, he tries to remember the specifics. “When I asked about it, he told me he'd uncovered evidence of a criminal network targeting orphans and other children who had no families to miss them if they disappeared. They would abduct these children, alter their records to assimilate them into their Wang Family, and then raise them like dogs, essentially conditioning them into abject loyalty to the organization. Fo-ye refused to go into detail about what he'd seen, but he did tell me that their 'training' was harsh, and many children didn't survive it. But this organization was extensive and powerful, with loyal allies planted in both law enforcement and the city's government agencies. When Fo-ye presented the case to his superior and asked to pursue it, the Wangs used their influence to shut him down. He never spoke of it again, and made me promise to do the same. I'd forgotten about it completely. But what you've uncovered about Wang Can—especially that his surname was changed to Wang—is too big of a coincidence to ignore.”

Luo Que is silent for a few long minutes as he tries to process this new information. “So you think Wang Can was part of this organization?”

“I'm not prepared to make that kind of accusation at this point,” Zhang Rishan counters. “Wang is such a common surname, it could be mere coincidence. But he fits the profile of someone the Wang Family would have targeted for abduction, and his complete lack of records would make sense if he was a child raised in a criminal cult.”

There's another long stretch of silence, and then Luo Que leans forward to meet his eye, resting his elbows on his knees. “Even if that is true,” he starts slowly, the way he often does when he's about to say something he knows Zhang Rishan isn't going to like, “I don't see how it's relevant to this case. There's no evidence of organized crime here. Are you suggesting that Liu Sang killed him in a drunken rage because he figured out Wang Can was some kind of criminal? Or that it was self-defense, and Wang Can tried to kill him first because he found out? Or... Don't tell me you're still not convinced Liu Sang did it at all. You think he was, what? Set up?”

Zhang Rishan finishes off his tea and drops his head into his hands, rubbing at his temples. “I don't know what to think,” he admits honestly. “You have to admit there are aspects of this case that don't quite add up despite the evidence, and if there's a connection to an organization like the Wang Family...” He trails off, not sure where he's even going with this.

“All due respect, boss, sometimes human nature isn't logical. For example, I wouldn't have expected you to be so mistrustful of what looks like clear-cut evidence in an open-and-shut case.” Luo Que raises a challenging brow. “What's that saying... Occam's Razor. 'The explanation that requires the fewest assumptions is usually correct.' Right? So what's more likely in this case? That there's some mysterious third party pulling the strings in a complicated cover-up, or that Liu Sang got drunk, got angry, and shot his brother?”

Sighing, Zhang Rishan concedes that he has a point. It's not his job to speculate or make logical leaps or invent conspiracy theories. It's his job to follow the evidence, and all of the evidence is pointing directly at Liu Sang, with none whatsoever indicating the involvement of anyone else. Would he be this indecisive with a suspect he found less relatable or personally appealing? Especially one who had outright lied to him last night about owning a gun? “I just don't get the impression that Liu Sang would intentionally hurt anyone, much less his own twin, that's all,” he mutters sulkily.

Luo Que scoffs. “That's because I haven't told you what's in that sealed file yet. I think you might have to eat those words.”

“Oh?” Zhang Rishan lifts his head far enough to peer at Luo Que through his fingers. “You said it was a juvenile case? I'm surprised you got it unsealed so fast.”

Smirking at him, Luo Que flips open the folder. “I dropped your name to Yin Nanfeng in the Archives. Saying it was a request from you personally was enough to buy me ten minutes with the digital copy of the original record and a blind eye while I printed it out.”

He clicks his tongue, but the glare he shoots at Luo Que is half-hearted at best. He doesn't like exploiting her obvious crush on him, but since this time, it had gotten him what he wanted in significantly less time than going through the proper channels would, he's not actually that upset. “So what's the scandal?” he asks, leaning back in his own chair, content to let Luo Que summarize it for him.

“It turns out Liu Sang has a history. According to the police report, about twelve years ago, he was the sole survivor of a house fire that killed his father, step-mother, and younger half-brother. The hospital stay in his records is a direct result- he was injured in the incident and spent a few weeks in a burn ward. The officer in charge of the investigation found traces of accelerant at the scene and suspected arson. He was convinced Liu Sang had done it—which he denied, multiple times—and even went so far as to bring charges against him. Liu Sang was only a minor at the time, and the charges were ultimately dropped for lack of evidence, so the case was dismissed and sealed. But if it's true, it does suggest that he's capable of turning on his own blood.”

Zhang Rishan's jaw drops. “They accused a fourteen-year-old boy of murdering his entire family?”

To say he's genuinely stunned by the results of Luo Que's investigation is a massive understatement. Zhang Rishan would have never guessed Liu Sang was capable of that kind of heinous crime. Even if he does have to grudgingly admit it seems likely he'd shot and killed his brother, nothing about this case suggests any planning or premeditation. If anything, it was an impulsive decision made in the moment, the result of heated emotions and too much alcohol.

“You said it yourself,” Luo Que points out. “It was like he suddenly stopped caring his brother was dead. Maybe it's not the first time he's killed one of his own relatives in a fit of anger.”

“I—“ he starts, at a complete loss for words. What can he even say in response?

Zhang Rishan is still reeling from that revelation when Kan Jian knocks briskly on the door, not waiting for a response before letting himself into his office. He, too, has a file folder in his hands, and holds it out without a single moment of hesitation. “I just got this from Forensics,” he says breathlessly, as if he'd run all the way here from the lab on the other side of the building. Knowing Kan Jian, he probably had. “It's the results of the fingerprint analysis and ballistics tests.”

His eyes widen slightly, and he wastes no time grabbing the file out of Kan Jian's hands, bypassing Luo Que. This one, he wants to see for himself. Luo Que's threats to the Forensics team notwithstanding, getting results so quickly is almost unheard of. Unless... Unless the prints are already documented in the system because of a previous case. Zhang Rishan opens the file to find a printout of two black and white images of matching fingerprints, one from the murder weapon and the other from the national database. Certain areas are highlighted as being identical, lending credibility to the software's assessment and accuracy. According to the page in his hand, the print on the pistol is a 99% match. To Liu Sang.

On the following page, the Ballistics team had confirmed that the weapon they had recovered from the scene is the one used to kill Wang Can.

He takes one moment to squeeze his eyes closed and steady his breathing. Whether he still has doubts or not, the evidence is clear. He can't put this off any longer.

“Issue an arrest warrant, and find a magistrate to sign off on a property search,” Zhang Rishan snaps, irritably tossing the file down onto his desk. He's as angry at himself for being so easily manipulated as he is at Liu Sang for lying to him. Which is honestly a bit of an absurd reaction. What else did he expect from an alleged murderer? How many suspects have lied to him over the years? Liu Sang isn't any different. And yet Zhang Rishan had fallen for his large dark eyes and convincing act in a way that he hasn't since he was a wet-behind-the-ears rookie. “Luo Que, take point on this. Kan Jian, organize a five-man squad, and be ready to move the second that warrant goes through.”

Both men, seemingly understanding that Zhang Rishan is in no mood for dawdling, salute him sharply and make a hasty exit from his office to complete their assigned tasks.

In their absence, he allows himself just one minute to process his crushing disappointment that things hadn't turned out differently before he, too, jumps into action.

***

“He's gone.”

Zhang Rishan takes his eyes off the road just long enough to put Luo Que on speaker. “He's what?”

“Gone,” he repeats, stressing the word. “About two minutes after our men on surveillance got the arrest notice and orders to hold position to wait for us, they said Liu Sang took a bag of garbage out to the bins in the alley. They didn't think anything of it, but then he came out again with a backpack a couple minutes later and took off. By the time they realized what had happened and went after him, he'd disappeared.”

Muttering some choice words under his breath, Zhang Rishan aborts his course towards Liu Sang's apartment and loops back around to merge onto the highway. He'd had a gut feeling this might happen—it's part of the reason he'd chosen to drive separately from the rest of the team—but there had been nothing to suggest Liu Sang was an immediate flight risk, so he hadn't planned for it as well as he should have. If he wants to try and intercept his getaway, he's going to have to do it himself.

“He can't have gone far,” Luo Que continues. “I've got the team canvassing the surrounding area, but no one's seen him. Do you think someone tipped him off that we were coming?”

Liu Sang's sense of timing does seem suspiciously perfect, but to their knowledge, he's had no outside contact with anyone in the department. Except for Zhang Rishan himself, that is, and it certainly hadn't been him. “If he was, it wasn't one of us. I trust the team,” he replies, putting on a little more speed and flicking the switch to turn on his siren and flashing lights. Traffic parts in front of him, clearing the way. “Get the landlady to give you access to serve the search warrant. Be respectful. Update me if you find anything.”

“You got it.” There's a brief stretch of silence, and he's about to end the call when Luo Que asks, “Where are you going?”

“Changsha Station.”

“The train station?” Luo Que sounds incredulous. “You really think that's more likely than the international airport?”

Zhang Rishan hums an affirmation. It's just a hunch, but not an unsubstantiated one. “If he took off on short notice, and is trying to make a quick getaway, a train is his best bet. Even if he had a flight booked, he wouldn't risk sitting around, possibly for hours, in an airport terminal, just waiting for us to show up. Changsha Station is relatively close to his apartment. I suspect he'll pick up a cab to save time, but he could conceivably make it there even if he's on foot, and he's almost guaranteed to be able to get on a train within ten, fifteen minutes. Maybe less, if he has no specific destination in mind. And if he thinks he's got enough of a head start...”

“He won't be rushing or trying too hard to stay out of sight,” Luo Que says, finishing Zhang Rishan's sentence. “He'll never expect you to already be there waiting.”

Though Luo Que can't see it, Zhang Rishan smiles at his phone. His deputy's intuition is second to none. Being so attuned to each other may be infinitely irritating sometimes, but not having to explain every little thing has saved him so much time over the years that the trade-off is worth it.

“Do you want to call the BOLO or should I?”

“For now, keep this between us,” he says, fully aware that he'll land himself in hot water if he's wrong. “We've got one good chance to catch Liu Sang before he skips town. He's proven himself smart and cautious, and able to predict our movements. If he sees an excessive police presence at the station and decides not to risk it, we're going to lose that chance.”

Luo Que makes the sort of soft, disgruntled noise he always makes when he's not happy with one of Zhang Rishan's decisions. “Fine,” he grumbles. “But at least let me call ahead to the station. It's a big place and there's only one of you. Having the extra eyes of the security guards and the ticketing agents watching out for him will go a long way to keep you from getting flayed alive by your own brother if he gets away.”

“Are you wishing misfortune on me?” Zhang Rishan replies, chuckling softly.

“Don't slander me. I said 'if', not 'when',” Luo Que counters. “But you know Inspector General Zhang isn't going to give you any special treatment if you let a murderer escape, especially if it only happens because you tried to handle it all yourself.”

“Alright, alright, your concern is noted and appreciated,” he concedes as he switches off his siren and lights and pulls into the railway station parking lot. “Notify them to keep their eyes open, but not to engage him on their own. Give them my personal line and tell them to inform me immediately if he's spotted.”

“Copy that,” Luo Que says, and is presumably about to end the call when he's interrupted by one of the men searching Liu Sang's apartment, and then again by Kan Jian. “You— Hang on, boss. You found what? A— and—? Fuck, okay. I'll tell him. “ On the other end of the line, Zhang Rishan only gets Luo Que's half of the conversation, so he can't quite make out what they've found, but whatever it is, it's made his deputy very unhappy.

A moment later, Luo Que's voice comes back loud and clear. “They pulled some bloody clothing and a pair of muddy boots out of a garbage bag in the alley,” he says, “and found a hidden storage area inside the apartment. It's open, and empty, but it looks like... Be careful, boss. It looks like Liu Sang is armed.”

Chapter Text

From his vantage point, Zhang Rishan can see both the ticketing windows and the main concourse to the various waiting rooms and train platforms. Foot traffic has started to pick up around the late-day commuter rush, and the corridors are crowded. It would be the perfect opportunity for Liu Sang try and hide amidst the crowd, but so far there's been no sign of him despite Zhang Rishan's vigilance. The longer the minutes stretch on, the more irritable he becomes, anxiety starting to creep in that he made the wrong call. Or multiple wrong calls.

Maybe he should have sent notices to every transportation hub in the city, from the airport to the subways to the cab stands, just in case Liu Sang chooses a different escape route. Maybe he should have released a BOLO to the entire force and alerted every officer in Changsha of the escape of a wanted criminal. Maybe he's being horribly irresponsible by even considering letting Liu Sang enter Changsha Station when he suspects he's carrying a weapon. Maybe he's wasting time sitting here watching from a corner when he could be taking a more proactive approach. Maybe—

His phone buzzes in his pocket with an incoming call.

Pulling it out and answering in one fluid motion is second nature, since only a handful of people have this number, so it doesn't register until the person on the other end starts talking that it's not one of his regular contacts.

“Is this Detective Zhang? My surname is Xu, I'm a security guard at the station. I think I see your guy,” the voice on the other end of the line says in a rushed whisper. “Platform number four.” The phone buzzes again as it signals a new message. “I've sent you a photo to confirm. But if it's him, you'll need to move fast. This train will be arriving in just a few minutes.”

Thanking the guard for his efforts, Zhang Rishan is on his feet and moving even before he opens the attached photo. How Liu Sang managed to slip past him—and everyone else between the front entrance and the train platforms—is a mystery, but it's definitely him. In the photo, he's standing in the middle of of the crowd, using the same tactic to make himself look smaller that Zhang Rishan remembers from the morgue. He's got his long hair tucked up under a baseball cap, with the brim pulled low over his eyes, clearly trying hard not to draw unwanted attention to himself, and maybe it's just the bright fluorescent lighting, but he looks pale.

If Liu Sang is armed, he's in a perfect position to cause a lot of damage to a lot of people. Zhang Rishan needs to figure out how to approach him without putting anyone around them at risk.

As he briskly follows the signs and descends the stairs to Platform 4, the hall opens up to reveal the expansive space beyond. Above him, the domed ceiling lets in the slanted light of late afternoon and throws long shadows across the polished tile floor. Hundreds of voices all talking at once fill the room with sound; only the noise of trains departing and arriving in a steady stream drowns them out. The bustling atmosphere makes it difficult to concentrate on finding the one person he's after, but Zhang Rishan is determined not to let Liu Sang escape.

Glancing at the photo again, he uses the signage he can see to narrow down his search area and closes in on Liu Sang's last known location. And this time, it seems, he does get the advantage of surprise. Liu Sang doesn't turn to spot him until Zhang Rishan is practically within arm's reach of him, and his eyes widen. Strangely, though, Zhang Rishan gets the impression that it's his proximity, not his presence, that's caught Liu Sang off-guard. He takes a few staggering steps back before he gets far enough away from the surrounding press of people to run.

Flashing his badge at the crowd, Zhang Rishan takes off in pursuit, following him down the length of the platform towards the far end of the station. There are fewer people here; this part of the tracks is reserved for the engine and baggage cars, and thus has no passenger access. And it's here that Liu Sang finally slows, then stops, perhaps realizing he's running out of room and running out of options.

Zhang Rishan tenses as Liu Sang turns to face him, but if he has a weapon, he makes no move to reach for it. Up close and in person, it's easy to see that Liu Sang isn't just pale and drawn, he's actually a little green. His breathing is shallow despite his exertion, and there's a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. He almost looks like he's in pain, though he shows no outward sign of injury. Somewhere in the distance, Zhang Rishan picks up on the sound of the approaching train's whistle, and though it's muted, it makes Liu Sang visibly flinch. His eyes flicker between the length of the tracks, and Zhang Rishan, as if he's trying to determine whether he can still somehow board the train once it arrives.

Taking the initiative, Zhang Rishan takes a few cautious steps towards Liu Sang. “You must know I can't let you get on that train,” he says.

Liu Sang forces a thin smile on his face. It looks more like a wince, and his voice is equally pinched and clipped when he speaks. “I'm sorry, Detective Zhang. I know you're only doing your job. But I can't go with you.”

Blinking in disbelief, Zhang Rishan sweeps his gaze around the surrounding platform before returning it to Liu Sang. “From where I'm standing, you don't have many other options. And I don't want to see anyone else get hurt. Not you, and not any of the innocent people here. Please don't make any more mistakes.”

The expression that crosses Liu Sang's face is hard to describe, but he punches out a strained breath that might be a laugh. “I'm not going to hurt anyone,” he says, sounding almost wounded that Zhang Rishan would think he would. “I never have hurt anyone. I know how it must look to you, I know what you must think of me, but it's not true. I didn't kill my brother, Detective Zhang. They drugged me so I wouldn't remember, but I remember enough. I wasn't even there that night. No matter what your evidence says. It's all a lie. And I can prove it.”

Something in Liu Sang's tone gives him pause. It's not just that he's come right out and given voice to Zhang Rishan's doubts about his guilt. It's not even the conviction he has—it's entirely possible he's in denial about his own actions that night, and genuinely believes in his own innocence. No, what truly makes him waver, and consider that maybe there's some truth to his words is the silent plea in them. Liu Sang needs someone to believe him.

Zhang Rishan holds up his hands, willing to indulge Liu Sang if it means talking him down and taking him into custody without a fight. “Okay,” he replies. “Then prove it. Come back to the station with me and tell me the truth about what happened. You have my word that I will listen to what you have to say.”

Another tremor goes through Liu Sang's body, and if Zhang Rishan isn't mistaken, he can see a slight crack start to form in his resolve. As if he might tentatively believe he can trust Zhang Rishan to keep his word and hear him out. But then the train whistle sounds again, much closer this time, and Liu Sang shakes his head. “I can't,” he says, sounding almost desperate. “My brother needs me. He can't wait that long. I have to go now.”

The tiled floor under their feet begins to rumble with the approach of the train. The tunnel at the other end of the platform is momentarily illuminated by its bright headlight, and then shadowed by the bulk of the train itself as it pulls in to its destination. Liu Sang's eyes flick towards it, and Zhang Rishan sees him take a deep and gasping breath.

“I'm sorry,” he repeats, and then turns towards the tracks.

For one horrifying moment, the way he speaks of his brother in the present tense has Zhang Rishan convinced that Liu Sang is about to throw himself in front of the oncoming train. He staggers forward, reaching out his hand to stop him, but it's too late. His fingers close on empty air. In a display of speed and agility shockingly incongruous with his corporate job description, Liu Sang sprints the last few steps to the edge of the platform, leaps, and launches himself forward. With a sense of accuracy and timing so impeccably perfect it immediately puts every action movie Zhang Rishan has ever seen to shame, he makes it to the platform on the opposite side mere seconds before the incoming train slides to a stop.

Even if Zhang Rishan has the ability to follow Liu Sang across the tracks—debatable, since he'd have to pick his jaw up off the floor first—he loses the opportunity. He'll have to go back and go around the long way, wasting precious minutes. And Liu Sang will probably be long gone. Why wait around, now that he's missed his—

“Attention travelers! This is the final boarding call for train G78, Changsha to Beijing, departing from Platform Five. Final boarding call for train G78!”

Spinning around, Zhang Rishan searches for the nearest information board, quickly scanning the schedule for the details of the train that had just arrived. The G421 just in from Wuhan. The next departure from this platform isn't for another forty minutes. He'd been so focused on stopping Liu Sang from getting on this train that he'd neglected to consider the bigger picture. It made no sense for him to wait out in the open on this platform for a train that hadn't even arrived yet. Not when there was another one set to leave within a few minutes. For the second time in the span of five minutes, Zhang Rishan is left completely dumbfounded as the realization sinks in.

Liu Sang had never intended to board this train.

Was all of this just a ruse? Had Liu Sang known all along that someone—that Zhang Rishan—would be here looking for him? Was jumping the tracks his plan from the start? He'd been able to get inside the station and onto the platform without being spotted by anyone. Surely he could have stayed hidden long enough to board his train. Did he want to be seen? Had he revealed his presence on purpose, intentionally lured Zhang Rishan to the wrong platform just to pull a stunt that would guarantee his own escape? How had he managed to time it so perfectly and how could he have known there wouldn't be anyone waiting for him on the next platform?

How is Liu Sang seemingly always one step ahead of them?

Zhang Rishan watches with dismay as the status of the G78 changes from 'Boarding' to 'Departing'. Even if he sprints flat out from here to the next platform, he won't get there in time to stop the train from leaving. Liu Sang has engineered a masterful escape for himself.

His only consolation, small though it may be, is that he knows where Liu Sang is going. He's on a direct route, with no opportunity to get off the train before its scheduled arrival in Beijing later tonight. Zhang Rishan can only pray that he'll be able to beg forgiveness from his superiors and keep his job long enough to go after him. He want—needs—to see this through. Whatever the outcome, he wants to be the one to bring Liu Sang back.

Chapter Text

Inspector General Zhang Qishan sits imposingly behind his desk, his fingers steepled under his chin and his eyes fixed on his computer monitor. On the screen, multiple angles of Liu Sang narrowly avoiding an oncoming train play through for what is easily the eighth time in five minutes. Somehow it's even more impressive on tape than it had been in person. Maybe because from the vantage point of the security cameras, Zhang Rishan can see what he hadn't been able to before—Liu Sang landing nimbly on the opposite platform with barely a stumble, then briskly but calmly walking back to board the waiting train to Beijing as if he hadn't just narrowly avoided death.

“That took some guts,” Fo-ye says, finally stopping the video playback and sliding his steely gaze back to Zhang Rishan, who has been standing at attention on the other side of the desk since his arrival. It sounds like an impartial statement, but Zhang Rishan knows him well enough to tell that he, too, is impressed by the unexpected display of skill. “Given the improbability of his escape route, I suppose I can't put the blame for his getaway entirely on you.”

Zhang Rishan doesn't dare let himself relax. He also knows Fo-ye well enough to tell that there's a 'but' coming.

“But,” he continues, “that doesn't excuse the copious and egregious breaches of protocol that allowed him the opportunity to escape in the first place.” Fo-ye catches and holds his gaze without blinking. “What were you thinking?”

Flinching at the disappointment he hears in his brother's voice, Zhang Rishan's shoulders slump in remorse. “It's my fault,” he says, owning up to his own mistake. “I shouldn't have tried to confront him without having a backup plan in place. I overestimated the rapport I had built with Liu Sang while handling this case, and mistakenly, I thought I had a better chance of convincing him to let me bring him in myself, than confronting him with a full team.”

Fo-ye stares at him for a few long moments, then sighs. “Close the door, Rishan,” he says, gesturing towards his open office door, “and then sit down.”

From his experience, Fo-ye only closes the door when he's about to chew someone out and doesn't want everyone else in the department hearing it. Zhang Rishan had expected it the moment he'd reported Liu Sang's escape, but he'd still held briefly to the vain hope that Fo-ye would spare him the worst of his fury. Alas, it seems his luck is zero for two today.

And so it utterly shocks him when Fo-ye smiles wistfully instead of immediately shouting at him. “I understand why you made the choices you did,” he starts once Zhang Rishan is settled in the chair across from him. “Unfortunately, you and I both inherited our father's stubborn habit of thinking he could handle everything on his own.” He glances at the still images on the screen, frozen at the exact moment Zhang Rishan thought Liu Sang might surrender. “For what it's worth, I think you would have succeeded if he hadn't pulled that stunt. But now that there's an armed alleged murderer on the loose, we have to—”

“I don't think he did it,” Zhang Rishan blurts out, earning a stunned blink in response. If he's honest, he's just as surprised that he said it out loud, and to his commanding officer, no less.

Based on his expression, Fo-ye is justifiably skeptical. If he's been following this case at all , then he's surely aware of the sheer amount of evidence against Liu Sang, and the fact that he'd run certainly doesn't make him look any less guilty to the outside observer. Fo-ye would be well within his rights to flat out tell Zhang Rishan that he's being ridiculous, and order him to stop wasting the department's time and issue a nation-wide Wanted notice. So it shocks him even more when his brother's skepticism morphs into something more inquisitive. “There's a lot of evidence that says otherwise,” he says, confirming Zhang Rishan's presumption. “What makes you say that?”

“I can't explain it,” he continues, hesitant. “Call it a gut feeling. But something about this case has felt off from the very beginning. He flat out told me at the station that the evidence we have against him is false, that it was planted, and the ease with which we found it and tied all of it directly back to him...makes me inclined to agree.”

“You've always had strong instincts,” Fo-ye says, cocking his head slightly to one side. “Okay. Convince me.”

It's a lot to summarize, and Zhang Rishan feels a little like he should have a cork board covered in pictures and red string as he lays out his reasoning. There are still loose ends; lies he has no explanation for, evidence he can't write off, the witness and camera footage that put Liu Sang at the scene. But the more he recounts Liu Sang's unusual behaviour and oft bizarre choice of words, the more convinced he himself becomes that this case isn't what it seems. Nor is Liu Sang's apparent guilt. And it raises another doubt in his mind.

If I didn't know better, I'd suspect that the person in the morgue isn't his brother at all.

I didn't kill my brother, Detective Zhang.

My brother needs me. He can't wait that long.

Both Liu Sang's words, and his own, echo in his mind as he describes the sudden change in Liu Sang's demeanor that day in the morgue to a frowning Fo-ye. That switch between genuine grief and...something else...had been his first indication that he was missing something important.

“You're saying it wasn't an immediate change when you uncovered the body?”

Zhang Rishan shakes his head. “No. At first, it felt like every other next-of-kin identification I've conducted. Liu Sang's grief felt genuine until...” he trails off, matching Fo-ye's frown with one of his own.

“Until what? Tell me exactly what preceded this change,” Fo-ye says, entering a few commands on his computer to bring up the digital case file.

“Liu Sang was visibly affected by the condition of the body, but did take his time. Ultimately, he said he couldn't be sure that the body was his brother, on account of the physical damage and disfigurement caused by being submerged. I asked him if Wang Can had any other identifying marks on his body, and Liu Sang told me he had a tattoo. I didn't have the authority to handle or manipulate the body, so I showed him a photograph of a matching tattoo found in the exact location he'd described,” he recalls, glancing up at the computer screen. “It's that one there,” he adds, pointing at one of the thumbnails.

“When he first saw it, he seemed crushed, and I interpreted that reaction as confirmation that the body was, indeed, Wang Can. What are the odds that someone else—who just happened to be carrying Wang Can's ID and wallet—would have the exact same tattoo in the exact same place, right? I put the photo back in the file and drew the sheet back up over the body, and when I looked at him again, Liu Sang's demeanor had completely changed.”

It takes a moment for the large image to load and resolve on Fo-ye's monitor, but when it does, he looks taken aback. “The body in the morgue has this tattoo?”

Zhang Rishan hums a confused, wordless yes. “You recognize it?”

Fo-ye doesn't answer him right away. Instead, he holds up a finger, reaches into a hidden drawer and pulls out a small device. He presses a button on the side, then sets it down in the middle of his desk, and only then does Zhang Rishan recognize it as a signal jammer. It's a stunning display of paranoid caution, one he hasn't seen since...

“I know you were young, and it was a long time ago, but do you remember the child abduction case in Beijing?” Fo-ye asks, and Zhang Rishan nods. “This tattoo is the signature of the Wang Family, given to everyone who passes their training and becomes part of their organization.”

Zhang Rishan sucks in a sharp breath as one more piece of the puzzle falls into place. “I had Luo Que run a background check on Wang Can. What he found matches what you told me back then about the type of people the Wangs targeted. His mother died when he was very young, and apart from his twin, Liu Sang, he had no known family. What's more, he has no records at all for most of his life, save that he was living in Beijing prior to relocating here. I speculated to Luo Que that he might have been part of the Wang Family, but at the time, it hadn't seemed relevant to the case. But if what you're telling me is true, and that every Wang Family member has this exact tattoo...then is it possible that it's not Wang Can at all? That it's someone else meant to look like him?”

It's admittedly a bit of a logical leap, but after a moment of thought, Fo-ye nods. “It's possible. If this Liu Sang knew his brother well, and was aware of his history in the organization, there's a chance he might have noticed something off about the body, or the tattoo, and come to the same conclusion.”

That would explain Liu Sang's abrupt change of heart. If something indicated the body wasn't Wang Can's, then Liu Sang would have no reason to be upset to the same degree. Except there's one small problem with his theory. “But the DNA results concluded that the body is Wang Can's,” he says. “Could they have...”

“Altered the records?” Fo-ye provides for him. “If the Wang Family knew the real identity of the body—and given that the tattoo isn't brand new or done postmortem, I'm assuming they do—then it would be simple enough for an organization with their connections to swap out one name for another in the database.”

“So they could have set all this up. Liu Sang might have been telling the truth, that he had nothing to do with the murder.” Even though he's had doubts from the beginning, Zhang Rishan is still left reeling by the apparent scope of this potential conspiracy. No wonder Liu Sang hadn't trusted him enough to let him in; if he's aware of the Wang's capabilities, he must think no one in their right mind would believe him if he said he was framed. “At the station, he spoke of his brother in the present tense,” he muses. “He must think Wang Can is still alive. That's why he was so desperate to stay out of custody, and get on that train to Beijing.”

“If that's true, and Liu Sang is going after his brother, he's about to put himself into a very dangerous situation,” Fo-ye replies grimly. “The Wang Family won't hesitate to kill anyone they see as a threat to the organization.” He scratches at his chin with the nail of his thumb, as if he's debating whether to continue speaking or not. “I never told you this, but the reason I never kept digging into the Wang Family back then is because they threatened to kill you.” He can't quite bring himself to meet Zhang Rishan's eye. “If it had just been my job, or even my own life, I wouldn't have quit. I wouldn't have abandoned those children, and every other child victim since, to their fate. But they'd threatened you and after everything I'd seen, I knew it wasn't an idle threat. I couldn't let that happen when you were all I had left.”

It's something Zhang Rishan had always suspected, but had been too afraid to ask. He'd been so confused back then when Fo-ye had dropped the case and refused to explain why. It wasn't like his brother to turn his back on innocent victims. He wouldn't have done it without a damn good reason.

Fo-ye clears his throat and blinks away the haze of painful memories. “If Liu Sang starts poking into their business, they won't just frame him for murder, they'll bury him.”

Before he can stop himself, or even question his reaction, Zhang Rishan bolts to his feet. “Let me go after him,” he says. “I was going to make the request anyway. I wanted to finish what I started and bring Liu Sang back to face justice for Wang Can. But now we need to find him before the Wangs do, and he's more likely to trust me than anyone else.”

“Insolent!” Fo-ye shouts, slamming his hand down on his desk and making Zhang Rishan jump at the unexpected outburst. “You let him escape once because you acted on your own, and now you want me to reward you by letting you go claim the glory of making the arrest? I should demand your badge and gun for your complete mishandling of this case!”

Through the gaps in the blinds, Zhang Rishan can see people stop and stare at Fo-ye's closed office door.

“I'm giving you two weeks to reflect on your actions,” Fo-ye continues, and Zhang Rishan finally catches on. “I don't want to see your face in this precinct until then. From now on, the case will be handled by Officer Luo, and you will keep your distance and stay out of it.” He pulls a suspension form out from his desk drawer and yanks his pen from its holder, but instead of filling it out with Zhang Rishan's details, Fo-ye writes down a name and contact number.

Without taking his eyes off the paper, and in an undertone that only Zhang Rishan is close enough to hear, he reveals their meaning. “I won't be able to avoid issuing a notice declaring Liu Sang a wanted fugitive. Nor do I think I should. He'll be safer if the Wangs think we believe their version of the story. This will, however, alert the Wang spies in the Beijing Bureau that he's headed their way.” Fo-ye glances up at him. “When you arrive, make contact with this person. His grandfather was an old family friend—you might remember the K-9 dogs he trained for the department. He can be trusted with the truth, and may be able to help you. If you run into trouble and need a safe place to go, go to the Xinyue Hotel. You know there will always be a room for you there, and Xinyue's father is good at running interference. He'll protect you.”

Finishing his notes, Fo-ye jams the pen back into its slot and whips the paper off his desk to shove it into Zhang Rishan's chest. “Get out,” he bellows, then adds, “and be careful, Rishan,” under his breath before he all but throws Zhang Rishan out of his office and slams the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Tugging the brim of his cap low over his eyes, Liu Sang slides into a seat in the back corner of a nondescript noodle stand, using the deepening shadows of late afternoon to further hide him from unwanted attention. The little restaurant isn't crowded, but there are enough people here to make him nervous, given that his picture has started to spread beyond police bulletin boards and out into the general public. He can't afford to get caught. Not now, when he's so close.

It's a bit early for dinner, and he's not overly hungry yet, but it doesn't matter. He's not here for the food.

Across a narrow grassy strip of green space lined with newly-planted saplings looms a lavish but imposing office building complex. Its clean white stone blocks, high arched windows, and Classical architecture stand out, making it unique amongst the taller, more modern glass-and-metal skyscrapers that surround it, and while most of those are emblazoned with a company's name, this building is notably devoid of any and all signage.

But that doesn't matter to him. Liu Sang doesn't need signs to tell him what's behind the fancy facade.

He hadn't expected the main hub of the Wang Family to be quite so ostentatious, but in retrospect, he probably shouldn't be that surprised. With the amount of power and influence they hold in Beijing, it's not like they have to keep themselves hidden. And he'd known from the start that the Wang Family uses legitimate business ventures as a front for their extensive criminal activity. It only makes sense that they'd have a prominent presence in the Financial District.

Seeing this place now, though, it's a little embarrassing that it took him almost five days to find it. Five days of haunting all the places Wang Can had warned him never to go unless he wanted to end up dead. Five days of waiting, barely sleeping, barely breathing, for even the faintest whisper of something that could lead him to his brother. Five days spent shaky and nauseous, casting the net of his hearing as wide as he possibly could, listening to a steady stream of voices and footsteps and pulses until finally, finally, he'd found the proverbial needle in the haystack—one he recognized.

Well. One he recognized as a member of the Wang Family, anyway. He'd started encountering another pulse he recognized barely a day after his arrival in Beijing. Detective Zhang is dedicated, and very good at his job, Liu Sang has to give him that. He'd quickly picked up Liu Sang's trail at the train station, and has been doggedly following him all over the city for the last four days, threatening to close in every time Liu Sang is forced to stop and rest. Staying one step ahead of Detective Zhang while trying to track down a lead on his brother has added a level of difficulty to his task. And a level of annoyance. More than once, he's been forced to abandon his position, abandon an opportunity, just to avoid being caught.

He only hopes that this time, his luck will hold and he'll get the proof he needs. By then, it won't matter if Detective Zhang catches up with him.

Placing an order just to keep the interruptions to a minimum, Liu Sang concentrates on the pulse he's been tracking since this morning. About half the building sits within his maximum range, and under ideal conditions, he'd have no trouble following his target's route within that range. As it is, with so much ambient city noise and so many people in the area, his accuracy is significantly reduced. To make matters worse, the stone blocks that make up the walls are thick and dense, creating a sort of natural noise reduction.

By the time his bowl of noodles arrives, there's a fine sheen of sweat on his brow, and he's slowed both his breathing and his own pulse in a desperate bid to keep the faint traces of the man's movements in his ear. If not for the fact that the pulse was familiar to him, he would have already lost it in the crowd. But this man was a member of the Wang Family Liu Sang could never forget.

It's because of him that he and Wang Can found each other again.

Granted, it hadn't been intentional. It was only a coincidence that Liu Sang had been hired to listen in on the meeting between his employer's company and this man, a representative of the Wang Investment Group. At the time, Liu Sang hadn't known anything about the Wang Family. Hadn't known the true scope of their power and influence, or that their business was a cover for so much corruption and violence. Nor had he particularly cared. He had a job to do, and whether both parties were pure and upstanding members of society or not didn't have anything to do with it. His only role had been to sit in the break room down the hall from the board room and listen for red flags- false data, intentionally overinflated projections, anything that would suggest the Wangs were misrepresenting themselves or the deal at the expense of the company that hired him.

He'd never expected to hear a voice that was nearly identical to his own.

Wang Can hadn't spoken much in that meeting. He'd been assigned to his superior as part of his security detail; it wasn't his place to contribute to his business dealings. But the few words he had said had instantly caught Liu Sang's attention. He'd very nearly botched the job—the first and only time in his entire life that has happened—because he hadn't been able to focus on anything else. After the meeting was over, he'd all but sprinted out of the room and down the hall in an attempt to catch a glimpse of his vocal doppelganger, only to discover a voice wasn't the only similarity they shared.

That day had marked the very start of their renewed sibling relationship, and everything about it had been fully committed to Liu Sang's memory. Including the pulse signature of Wang Lingjuan, the Wang Family representative.

The man Liu Sang is now tracking in the desperate hope that he'll once again be led back to Wang Can.

Ultimately, though, the circumstances prove too big a challenge to overcome. Wang Lingjuan spends a bit of time in an office on the second floor discussing market trends and investment portfolios with a voice he doesn't recognize, then walks down a corridor and disappears out of range. Liu Sang slumps forward, shaking with exertion and bracing himself on the edge of the table so he doesn't fall out of his chair entirely. His stomach churns as the rest of the world's noise floods back in, and it's all he can do to sip some water and try to steady his own pulse.

This isn't going to work.

He just can't hear enough of the building from the outside, and what he can hear isn't clear enough to pick out Wang Can's pulse if he's there. If he's going to make any progress in his search, he's going to have to get inside somehow.

Generally speaking, it's not an impossible task. The legal sector of the Wang Family conglomerate is open for business, and Liu Sang has seen dozens of people coming and going since his arrival. If he wants to go inside, there's nothing stopping him from just walking through the front door. Except for the fact that he'd stick out like a sore thumb since he's dressed in street clothes instead of a suit. And he'd probably be instantly recognized as a wanted criminal. At the very least, he'd be recognized by anyone from the Wang Family as Wang Can's twin brother and very possibly shot on sight.

No, he needs to find another way in.

He supposes he could always go somewhere and buy a suit, and then walk in through the front door, claiming he had a meeting with someone. But it's already getting late. If their very normal business keeps very normal business hours, they'll be closing soon. And that wouldn't solve his problem of having a very recognizable face where the Wangs are concerned.

“Xiao Ding!” Liu Sang flinches as a middle-aged woman behind the counter—presumably the noodle stand's owner—shouts at full volume across the restaurant. “Where did you go? You better not be hiding somewhere playing video games again!” She slams her hand down on the counter top, rattling a few stacks of bowls. “Get out here and take this order across the street! If it's cold by the time they get it, so help me...”

Scowling furiously, the woman storms out from her post, presumably in search of the unfortunate Xiao Ding, who is, in fact, playing video games in the alley behind the restaurant. Her absence gives Liu Sang the opportunity he needs.

He slides out of his seat, leaving ample payment to cover his barely-touched noodles, and surreptitiously lifts the bulky take-out order from the counter. A quick glance at the slip confirms its destination is the Wang Family building across the street. He couldn't have asked for a more perfect ruse.

No one questions him as he leaves the shop, and more importantly, no one stops him when he walks through the door into the Wang Family's territory.

The moment he does, his mental map of the building's interior expands like a drop of ink on wet paper. What had been hazy and inaccurate mere minutes ago sharpens with vivid clarity now that he's inside. And when it does, Liu Sang knows he's in the right place.

A single word—“Delivery”—gets him a dismissive wave from the girl behind the reception desk before she goes back to chatting with her coworker about the latest episode of some singing competition. Being completely ignored allows him the chance to slow his pace as he crosses the lobby and concentrate on his surroundings. For all intents and purposes, the first three floors of the building are no different from any other corporate headquarters he's ever set foot in. Offices, meeting rooms, a few odd water coolers; nothing to suggest that the Wang Family is a criminal enterprise. Even the idle chatter is squeaky clean; Liu Sang doesn't get the sense that the corporate jargon is code for anything, either. What he hears is the completely legal day-to-day operation of a legitimate business.

But the illusion falls apart when Liu Sang casts his hearing beyond that.

The upper floors of the building read more like a hotel or apartment complex than a corporate center. There are dozens of pulses, dozens of people engaged in all sorts of mundane activities. He can hear microwaves, appliances, televisions, radios. People laughing, joking, chatting, and...well, the less said about that, the better. But it's clear to him that a significant number—perhaps even the vast majority—of the Wang Family live here in this building.

Which is admittedly strange, but not half as nefarious as what's going on below the ground. A veritable labyrinth of twisting tunnels and hidden chambers extends out beyond the boundaries of the building's foundation. And while networks of underground access tunnels left behind from centuries of construction, demolition, and redevelopment aren't uncommon in Beijing, the fact that these ones are full of people is most certainly abnormal.

The sheer amount of human activity he can hear under his feet reminds him of an anthill. And like an anthill, one disturbance would probably trigger a swift and aggressive defensive response from the armed men patrolling below. Because it's not the tunnels and chambers themselves that they're guarding. It's what's happening in them. Liu Sang can hear the telltale sounds of an extensive illegal gambling ring, and the sort of activity he associates with the drug trade. There's a group of frightened women being held together in one large room, no doubt victims of human trafficking.

And there are children. Easily half a dozen. It's the only place in the entire compound that Liu Sang has heard them, and their undeniable fear and pain nearly causes him to drop the food and run. He's under no illusion about why they're here, locked up in the basement of the Wang Family complex. Wang Can hadn't minced words when he'd spoken of his own traumatic past, and he'd made it clear that he was neither the first, nor the last, of the Wang Family's child victims.

Liu Sang makes a silent vow to both them and the women that he won't forget them. One way or another, he'll get them out of here. Even if it means giving himself up, and pleading with Detective Zhang to do something about it. Because whatever else he may be, he's a good man, and Liu Sang is confident that he would do everything in his power to help them.

But right now, his priority is Wang Can. Without him, Liu Sang can't prove his innocence to Detective Zhang, and there's no way he'd even think about turning himself in until he's confirmed his brother's whereabouts. Which he wants to do sooner, rather than later; it's more than a little concerning that Liu Sang hasn't located his pulse yet.

Keeping his head down and his eyes lowered, he bypasses the bank of elevators and makes his way to the stairs instead. Stairwells are almost always deserted, and the echoes are good for revealing details he might otherwise have missed. Creeping silently down, one careful step at a time, he reaches a landing halfway between the ground floor and a sub-level. He can hear guards stationed on both sides of the access door to the underground tunnels, so getting closer probably isn't an option. But he is able to take advantage of a fortuitous changing of the guard to cast his hearing through the momentarily open door.

And that's when he finally hears it.

Wang Can's pulse is weak and a little erratic, but it's there. In his mind's eye, Liu Sang follows the sound through the corridors to a small cell-like alcove cut into the surrounding stone of an oblong chamber. He can hear the faint clink of restraints, and while it infuriates him that the Wangs have treated his brother this way, he takes immense pride in the fact that they're clearly afraid of what Wang Can would do to them if he had his full freedom of movement.

As much as he wants to rush right in and give Wang Can that chance, and as hard as it is to stop himself from doing just that, Liu Sang is aware of his own limitations. He's simply not a fighter. And even though he does have Wang Can's pistol tucked safely away at the small of his back, he's pragmatic enough to recognize that he probably wouldn't make it out of the stairwell if he tried to stage a one-man rescue mission. He'll never make it all the way to Wang Can's cell on his own. Not from this entry point.

But now he has the proof he needs that he didn't murder his brother. That Wang Can isn't dead at all. Liu Sang can finally show Detective Zhang the truth and clear his own name. And maybe then he'll help Liu Sang get his brother and the rest of these innocent people out of the Wang Family's hands.

Sitting down on the steps, Liu Sang takes a deep breath and slows his own heartbeat. When he casts his hearing out this time, his focus is on the tunnels themselves. Access points, hiding places, the timing of the guards' patrols; everything is meticulously committed to his memory and then hastily transferred onto a napkin he finds in the takeout bag. He'll study it later, find the most efficient ways in and out of the tunnels, and choose his plan of attack.

After so long, it's time to bring his brother home.

Chapter Text

“I see. And when was this?...Just a few minutes ago. ...Yes, ma'am, I'll send someone over right away to investigate. ...You too. Thank you for calling.” Wu Xie hangs up the phone and spins his chair around to face Zhang Rishan. “That's the second tip in the last hour we've gotten about your missing fugitive. Either he's getting sloppy, or he doesn't care about staying under the radar any more.” Without giving the location a second glance, he forwards the address to Zhang Rishan's phone, just as he's been doing for the last five days.

After leaving Fo-ye's office that day, Zhang Rishan had stopped by his office just long enough to grab his go-bag and pass along a few instructions to Luo Que, and then he'd hopped on the first available flight to Beijing. Initially, he'd hoped he would arrive first, that he could intercept Liu Sang's train and catch him at the station, but traffic had made that goal impossible. Liu Sang was long gone by the time he arrived at Beijing West. So he'd followed Fo-ye's instructions, and made his way to Wu Xie's office to explain the situation.

As it turns out, Wu Xie and his partners—Wang Pangzi and Zhang Qiling, who, as fate would have it, is a distant cousin of his—have been gathering evidence on the Wang Family's crimes for years, meticulously putting together a case in secret with the intent of bringing the group down in one fell swoop. None of them had seemed at all surprised when Zhang Rishan had declared that his “Wanted Fugitive” was more than likely the innocent victim of a complicated set-up.

Wu Xie had even gone a step further, and confirmed almost instantly that the body in the morgue wasn't Wang Can. Seeing Zhang Rishan's astonished expression, he'd laughed, and explained that in addition to analyzing every case that had possible ties to the Wang Family, he'd also cracked the code of the tattoos. The man laying in Zhang Rishan's morgue in Changsha was named Wang Cen, not Wang Can. Close enough to cause confusion, especially with the tissue damage caused by submersion, but distinctly different from what the real Wang Can's tattoo would have looked like.

Despite the case's ties to the Wang Family, Wu Xie had told him upfront that his ability to help Zhang Rishan search for Liu Sang would be limited. He had his own caseload to work on, and he would draw a lot of unwanted attention from the wrong people if he suddenly dropped it all to focus on an unofficial assignment that fell outside his jurisdiction. But he had offered to run interference, and to send Zhang Rishan every potential sighting of Liu Sang that came through their anonymous tip line, so that he could try and reach him before the Wangs did.

Limited though it may be, that help has been invaluable, and he's very nearly caught up to Liu Sang on multiple occasions because of it. That Liu Sang continues to be able to stay a step ahead of him is no fault of Wu Xie's. But if Liu Sang is no longer trying to hide his movements...does it mean he's gotten the proof he needs? Or is he trying to make a target of himself in his search for a lead?

Keying the address in to his map app, Zhang Rishan frowns at the screen. “Why would Liu Sang be in the Financial District?” he asks.

Wu Xie's head snaps up from his paperwork, and without asking, he snatches the phone out of Zhang Rishan's hands to look at the marker on the map. A slow grin spreads across his face, and he leans back in his chair to shout out into the precinct beyond his office door. “Pangzi! Xiaoge! Pack up! We're going for noodles!”

He hears Wang Pangzi's bellowing whoop from his desk. Zhang Qiling says nothing, as usual, but Zhang Rishan is fairly certain he sees a faint smile tugging at his lips, too. “What's so funny?” he asks as he pockets his phone and follows Wu Xie out of his office.

***

“That,” Wu Xie points once they've settled themselves into a small noodle restaurant in the Financial District, “is the central hub of the Wang Family organization.”

“That—” he starts, following the line of Wu Xie's finger with his eyes, and landing on a tall building made of pale stone, adorned with ornamental columns and high-arched windows. “You can't be serious. It's so...”

“Pretentious? Ostentatious? Hideous?” Pangzi provides, not once taking his eyes off his bowl of noodles.

“Obvious.”

Zhang Qiling snorts softly through his nose, and Wu Xie gives Zhang Rishan a knowing nod. “Hard to believe, isn't it? Everyone figures an organization with so much blood on its hands would operate out of back alleys and shady abandoned warehouses. But with their money and influence in every aspect of this city's power structure, they're confident enough that they're untouchable. And so far, they've been right.” Wu Xie shrugs, but Zhang Rishan can tell he's not as unbothered by that as he pretends to be.

“Every so often, a rookie comes along and learns about what we, and Fo-ye, and now you, have known all along—that the Wangs are involved in some seriously shady shit,” Pangzi says. “And in their shiny, innocent, naivete, they're determined to do something about it. So they come here, and they wait, and they watch.”

“This restaurant has gotten such a reputation as a stake out spot that 'going for noodles' has become a euphemism for digging up dirt on the Wang Family.” Wu Xie pauses to grin at Zhang Qiling as he deliberately places a select piece of meat in his bowl. “It's a shame none of it ever sticks. I think that building has been raided more times than any other building in the entire city. But the Wangs are nothing if not thorough, and cautious to a fault. No one has ever found a single shred of proof that anything illegal is happening over there.”

“That's the missing link,” Pangzi adds. “We could put every single person in that building away for a very long time, along with everyone who covered for them, if we could only tie them—collectively, as an organization—to the illegal businesses and extrajudicial killings we all know they're responsible for.”

Letting all that sink in, Zhang Rishan's gaze strays back to the grandiose building sitting serenely beyond a strip of green space and a line of skinny trees. That explains why Liu Sang came here. Multiple times, according to the woman behind the counter who had called in the tip earlier today. He must have been searching for traces of his brother. Perhaps he's even found them, if he's acting openly now.

“Hey,” Wu Xie says suddenly, startling Zhang Rishan out of his thoughts as he leans forward. “This Liu Sang of yours isn't actually a spy or something, is he?”

Zhang Rishan can't help but blink quizzically at the question that seems to come from nowhere. “I— What? No? Why would he be a spy?”

“Oh,” he replies, actually sounding a little disappointed. “Well, it's just that he's managed to evade you for so long. I saw the footage from the train station in Changsha. That didn't look like the kind of thing a normal corporate consultant could do, unless he's Xiaoge. Every time you get close to catching him, he disappears again. And he's managed to escape the clutches of the Wang family. Not just by literally avoiding being targeted by them while tracking them all the way to this building. I mean, it's impressive that he was able to gain the trust of a detective like you to the extent that you'd question all the evidence against him, give him the benefit of the doubt, and reject arresting him for murder on the circumstantial evidence alone. When the Wang Family decides to eliminate a threat, frame, or scapegoat someone, there aren't many people skilled enough to ward against it.”

“Not enough of us willing or able to see through their fabrications, either,” Pangzi says wistfully as he finishes off his bowl. “Liu Sang is lucky he didn't get stuck with a less astute detective in charge of his case. Or he'd probably be rotting in a Changsha jail cell like the Wangs wanted, instead of...wherever he is now.”

In an uncanny twist of timing, Zhang Rishan's phone buzzes in his pocket with an incoming message. It's not a number he immediately recognizes, but the preview he gets on his lock screen is enough to make him open it anyway.

Detective Zhang. This is Liu Sang. I have proof my brother is alive. I know where he is. If you want to know the truth, meet me in ten minutes and I'll show you. I know you're close enough.

His phone buzzes again with a second message: a map pin with the exact coordinates of Liu Sang's proposed rendezvous.

And then a third message arrives almost immediately after: Bottom level. Don't take the elevator. Stay out of sight.

“You don't have to wonder,” Zhang Rishan says faintly, and points at the Wang family building. “He's right over there.” Turning his phone around, he shows the screen, and the messages on it, to the others.

Wu Xie chokes on a mouthful of broth, and as he sputters, he grabs the phone out of Zhang Rishan's hand for the second time that day. “No, no, no, he can't be there,” he says, eyes wide and face draining of colour. “You need to go get him and bring him back. Now . I don't care how. Arrest him if you have to, just get him out of there. If the Wangs catch him snooping around where he's not supposed to be, they won't hesitate to put him in the ground.”

Fo-ye had said almost exactly the same thing, but hearing Wu Xie repeat it now, and with such urgency, sends an icy chill down his spine and drives home a sense of immediacy. Wu Xie is deadly serious, and even Wang Pangzi's usually jovial and boisterous demeanor has been tempered by a grim solemnity. “Going into the Wang Building alone to dig up dirt is a suicide mission,” he says.

“Are you armed?” Zhang Qiling asks with his usual air of unaffected calm, though even he is holding himself with a certain tension.

His pragmatism is actually soothing in a way. It forces Zhang Rishan to focus on the task at hand, instead of falling victim to his fear that something might happen to Liu Sang before he can get there. Instead of taking the time to question why that fear makes his chest feel tight. There's nothing abnormal about his concern. He'd feel the same about any innocent person in imminent danger. And he'd put forward the same effort to bring them back safely, regardless of the risk to himself. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

“I am,” he replies as he stands and takes his phone back from Wu Xie. He'd left his standard issue sidearm back in Changsha in the wake of his 'suspension' but Zhang Rishan is never without a spare—a small-caliber pistol hidden in a holster around his ankle.

“Good.” Zhang Qiling nods his approval. “Go now.”

“We can't get involved,” Wu Xie reiterates, which comes as no surprise to Zhang Rishan. Just being here with him while they're still on duty is probably enough to get the three of them in trouble with their superiors. He wasn't about to ask them to do anything more. “But we'll be waiting in the car. If you can send us a signal when you get him out, we'll come pick you up.”

“All the better if you can bring us something concrete we can use against them,” Pangzi adds, doing his best to lighten the mood.

“I'll do my best,” Zhang Rishan assures, and checks his watch. Six minutes until the time Liu Sang had given him. Just enough time to walk the distance between the restaurant and the pin on his map. And walk, he would have to. Tempting as it is to take off at a flat out sprint just to reach Liu Sang's location as quickly as possible, doing so would draw too much unwanted attention, and probably raise an alarm from any member of the Wang Family that spotted him coming. Liu Sang had expressly told him to stay out of sight, which probably means he would only be at greater risk of discovery if Zhang Rishan's actions tip them off and cause them to increase their security measures.

The best way to keep Liu Sang safe is to do as he was told and blend in with the crowd.

As he walks, he prudently switches his phone to full silent. He's not sure what kind of situation he's about to walk into, but he doesn't want to risk a mistimed buzz giving him away, in the event that the rendezvous point is a hiding spot of some kind. Liu Sang had told him to go to the bottom level, but not the bottom level of what.

He doesn't get that information until he reaches the street corner, and realizes that the coordinates of Liu Sang's location aren't inside the Wang building itself, but in a low parking structure a block over, on the other side of a narrow side street. It appears to be open to the public, with hourly and daily rates posted in plain view, and a sign that welcomes patrons attached to a standard mechanical arm activated by a ticket booth. A few cars of various makes and models pass him and enter as he approaches, and a few more exit. None of the drivers give him more than a cursory glance in passing; if they're secretly Wang Family operatives, they're doing an excellent job pretending they aren't.

The thought that Liu Sang might be leading him on another wild goose chase briefly crosses his mind. Zhang Rishan doesn't think he would use his brother's case to misdirect him, but there's absolutely nothing to suggest that the lot is directly connected to Wang Family in any way, other than the proximity of its location. Nothing, that is, until he catches sight of an unobtrusive ramp that veers away from the main entrance. One that goes down, into a sub-level, instead of up into the public parking area.

There are a few signs there, too, but these ones read 'Employees Only', and 'Do Not Enter', and the mechanical arm blocking the way has no ticket station. Instead, it has a digital scanner and a small camera that sits at the perfect height to monitor an incoming driver. On the surface, it looks like a standard private staff parking area. The average person probably wouldn't question its presence when it's so close to a massive company.

But Zhang Rishan isn't the average person.

He slows his pace, carefully assessing his surroundings for additional security measures, but somewhat shockingly, there aren't many. Perhaps to reinforce the illusion of legitimacy, there are no guards, no motion sensors, and no visible alarm system. There are only a few motorized cameras, slowly sweeping back and forth in a predictable pattern, and those are easy enough for him to avoid, once he works out his timing.

Staying close to the wall and out of sight, Zhang Rishan presses on. The ground under his feet has a distinct downward slope, and curves around in a loose arc until the tarmac levels off into a flat parking area. Contrary to the cars entering and exiting above, these ones look like fleet vehicles. Most of them are dark, neutral colours, and many have tinting on the windows. They're big and imposing without being flashy or conspicuous. Remembering Pangzi's request, he snaps a few photos of the line of cars, carefully documenting the license plates just in case.

At the far end of the lot, he can make out a pair of heavy-looking car-width industrial steel doors that lift from the bottom—the kind that he's seen on a smaller scale in places like storage units—and a smaller access door next to them. Even at a distance, he can see the dim glow of a keypad lock on the wall. There's no sign of Liu Sang, but as he gets closer, he notices that the smaller door is cracked open, prevented from fully closing by what appears to be...an empty take-out container? The logo of the nearby noodle shop is printed on the side, and when he exchanges the box for the toe of his boot, he can see a hastily written note that says simply 'Meet me inside. -LS'.

Silently cursing Liu Sang for his reckless impatience, Zhang Rishan slips through the door and puts the box back where it was. True, the door opens from the inside without requiring a code, but he doesn't want to risk being unable to escape in the event that their presence triggers some kind of lockdown.

It takes his eyes a few moments to adjust to the lower light of the underground tunnels, but when they do, Zhang Rishan sucks in a sharp breath. While the garage outside could plausibly pass as an innocuous staff parking area, the space on the other side of the industrial doors tells a different story.

Unless his spatial awareness is failing him, Zhang Rishan estimates the hidden garage sits directly under the side street in between the parking deck and the Wang Family building. It's expansive enough to accommodate a few large vehicles at once, providing an answer as to how the Wang Family manages to be so heavily involved in human trafficking and murder without ever getting caught. Here, there are layers of stains, both old and recent, on the concrete floor, the deepest of which are concentrated around a central drain. The low light makes it impossible to determine the hue, but it doesn't take Zhang Rishan's detective skills to know that the discolouration is the result of years of spilled blood.

At the moment, there's only one vehicle parked here. An unmarked commercial panel van, windowless and ideal for transporting bodies—living or dead—sits with its rear doors open. There's a heavy smell of bleach and other cleaning products wafting out of the interior. It's no wonder they haven't left it out with the rest of the fleet. He'd warrant that any cadaver dog worth its salt would hit on the van from a mile away.

Zhang Rishan snaps a few more quick photos of the van and the room at large before he pauses. It's a few minutes past the time he was supposed to meet Liu Sang, but when he checks his phone, there have been no further messages from him, nor any sign that he's hidden here in this room somewhere. His note had said to meet him inside, but he's nowhere to be found, and it's making Zhang Rishan a little anxious. How far inside is he supposed to go? Surely he's already crossed the boundary into Wang territory, making this a very dangerous place to walk into blind.

A flash of movement inside the dimly-lit corridor that leads out the other side of the garage catches his eye, and he instinctively ducks behind the van to take cover. Until he can determine whether it's friend or foe, he can't take the risk of being spotted.

But it turns out he's not the one at greatest risk.

A sudden shout of surprise breaks the silence. It's followed by a brief but intense scuffle, and finally, the all too familiar sound of a person being thrown bodily to the ground. “If you know what's good for you, you'll stay down, or I'll shoot you with your own gun,” a voice that definitely isn't Liu Sang says, punctuating his command with the soft click of a pistol being cocked.

From his hiding place, Zhang Rishan can see a beam of brighter light briefly illuminate the damp stone walls in an erratic arc, as if the person holding the flashlight is having difficulty aiming both it and a gun at the same time. When it steadies a moment later, the beam's focal point is out of Zhang Rishan's line of sight. But he doesn't need to see to know who it is.

“Well, well, would you look at that,” the voice says, dripping with disdain and barely-concealed malice “Looks like a stray dog has come sniffing for its bitch of a brother.” Liu Sang grunts and Zhang Rishan grimaces in sympathy as he hears the unknown man—who must be a Wang—land a vicious kick to his ribs. “Get up,” he spits. “You want to see him? Fine. I'll take you to him. That way, he'll have a front row seat when I put you down like the mongrel you are.”

Seemingly too impatient to wait for Liu Sang to stand on his own, Zhang Rishan hears another scuffle, and then a soft scraping as he's presumably dragged to his feet and marched off down the tunnel.

As silence descends once more, Zhang Rishan dares to step out from behind the van, and once he's determined that there are no other Wang guards in the immediate vicinity, he hastily follows the trail they've left behind, drawing his own weapon as he goes.

Chapter Text

The tunnel system here is dimly lit and complicated, with many twists and turns and branches and dead ends, and he has no map to guide him. It's difficult to find the proper balance between following closely enough to avoid taking the wrong path, but not so close that he'll be easily seen or heard if Liu Sang's captor happens to look back over his shoulder. Without knowing where they're going, he has no idea when they might suddenly stop moving, and he doesn't want to expose his presence by running right into them. Or any other Wang guard that might be patrolling in the area.

It's hard to tell how far they've gone or how long they've walked before the unknown Wang speaks again and draws Zhang Rishan up short before he rounds the next sharp turn in the tunnel. The light reflecting off the stone is brighter here, suggesting the area in which they've arrived has greater significance than the surrounding tunnels.

“Hey, traitor, I brought you a present,” the guard sneers from somewhere just ahead of him, and by the sound of it, he's sent Liu Sang sprawling again.

“Liu Sang!” Another voice calls out, and even though Zhang Rishan knows on an intellectual level that Wang Can and Liu Sang are twins and therefore have almost identical voices, it still throws him a little to hear him speak. He can hear the harsh clink of chains being tugged taught, as if Wang Can had lunged forward and hit the limits of their reach. “Don't touch him, you fucking piece of shit. I'll fucking kill you if you hurt him!” There's a feral snarl in Wang Can's voice, and Zhang Rishan doesn't doubt that if he wasn't tethered, he would likely tear the person threatening Liu Sang apart with his bare hands.

Creeping forward, Zhang Rishan slowly reaches his free hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone, risking the momentary brightness of the screen waking up to start his audio recording app. There's no signal down here, so he won't be able to stream it to a cloud-based backup and he'll risk losing it if the Wangs catch him and destroy his phone, but it's still worth trying. If he can get concrete evidence that Wang Can is still alive, and that the Wang Family was involved in this plot, it will go a long way towards clearing Liu Sang's name once this is all over. And it will be one more thing Wu Xie can use to build his case.

He just isn't expecting his decision to pay off so fast.

“I'm not going to hurt him, I'm going to kill him. Right here in front of you,” the Wang guard says, mocking in his condescension. “And then you can sit with the knowledge that it's your fault for as long as it takes to break you.”

“Bullshit,” both twins growl in eerie unison.

“Is it?” His voice seems to be moving; perhaps he's pacing, or circling around Liu Sang. “As I recall, it was your choice to turn your back on the Family. Your choice to run away with your bastard brother. You didn't really think we'd let that stand, did you?” He laughs a cold, shrill laugh. “Wasn't it generous enough for us to spare his life in Changsha? We went to such great lengths to ensure he'd spend the rest of it safe and sound in prison. But he chose to reject our kindness, and now it's too late. The Wang Family doesn't give second chances to outsiders. His life was forfeit the second he set foot in Beijing. So if you have any last words...”

For just one fleeting moment, Zhang Rishan hears nothing but the soft shuffling footsteps of the guard and the rattle of the chains as Wang Can continues to strain against them. Every muscle in his body feels like its pulled just as taut as he slowly and silently inches the last few steps to the corner, raising his pistol and preparing to intervene before any harm comes to Liu Sang.

He's just a few seconds too late.

Wang Can's roar of unbridled fury is drowned out by a sharp crack, the deafening report of the shot echoing through the corridors.

Abandoning all concern for his own safety and throwing prudent caution out the window, Zhang Rishan rounds the corner just in time to see Liu Sang stagger back from the impact, his expression one not of pain but of shocked disbelief, as if it hasn't yet registered that he's been hit. He looks down, and lifts one shaky hand to press against the expanding bloom of red on his side, swaying dangerously as his knees threaten to give out.

Time seems to slow as Zhang Rishan darts forward, reaching Liu Sang before he falls and snaking an arm around him to brace him against his own body. Without thinking of the repercussions, he raises his own gun and fires, striking the Wang guard right between his eyes. He drops like a stone, crumpling heavily to the ground with his face frozen in wide-eyed surprise.

With the immediate threat eliminated, Zhang Rishan finally dares to let out the breath he's been holding. He's not quite ready to relax just yet, not when those two gunshots had probably drawn the attention of every Wang Family member in the entire complex. And not when Liu Sang finally loses the battle to stay on his feet, sagging heavily against Zhang Rishan until he's forced to help him slump down to sit on the floor.

From the semi-circle of the arm Zhang Rishan is using to support his shoulders and keep him upright, Liu Sang looks up at him with a mixture of relief and something he can't quite name. It's not surprise. Not exactly. Liu Sang doesn't seem surprised to see him here in this room at this very moment. But it seems that he'd been harbouring a deep-seated doubt that Zhang Rishan would believe him enough to come at all. “You're late,” he says. And then, for the first time Zhang Rishan can recall, Liu Sang smiles at him. Not the sort of self-effacing or sardonic smiles he'd put on before, but a true and genuine smile. As if Zhang Rishan's very presence means everything to him.

“You were supposed to wait for me,” Zhang Rishan counters, frowning sternly at him but finding himself incapable of being truly irritated, all things considered. It's hard to be angry when there's a faint, fond warmth spreading through his chest. Besides, now isn't the time to bicker and place blame. There are more pressing concerns, like the blood that's seeping out from between Liu Sang's fingers at an alarming rate.

And he's not the only one who notices.

“Liu Sang!” Wang Can calls out again, and tugs sharply at his restraints with a renewed ferocity—it's a wonder he hasn't broken his own wrists yet—a look of anguish on his face as he strains to see how bad it is. For the first time since he barged into the room, Zhang Rishan tears his attention away from Liu Sang long enough to properly look at him through the rusty metal grate of the cell he's being kept in. His face and arms are littered with cuts and bruises, one eye blackened and swollen almost entirely shut, and his hair is grimy from lack of care. While his treatment at the hands of the Wang Family may have caused him to bear a striking resemblance to the body they pulled out of the river in Changsha nearly a week ago, this Wang Can, the real Wang Can, is very much alive.

“Calm down, didi. Stop struggling before you hurt yourself,” Liu Sang says, and while his teeth are gritted against the pain that's finally started to sink in, he sounds much calmer than he has any right to be. “I'm okay.”

“You've just been shot,” Zhang Rishan points out. “You're not okay, you need immediate medical attention.”

Liu Sang shrugs, and then grimaces, curling in on himself to avoid tugging at the wound again. “It went through clean and didn't hit anything important. At the rate I'm bleeding, I have about fifteen, twenty minutes before I pass out, and another ten or so before my heart stops. As long as I can stop the bleeding before that, I'll be fine.”

Zhang Rishan gapes at him, and vaguely wonders if maybe Wu Xie had been onto something with that spy business. He's never in his entire life seen any normal person react this way to a gunshot wound. Liu Sang says all of it with the same tone of voice as one might use to discuss hitting rush-hour traffic, as if he's talking about a predictable inconvenience, and not traumatic blood loss and possible death.

Even more bewilderingly, Wang Can seems to accept his words at face value. He stops fighting, backing off a few steps and putting some slack in the chains as he warily eyes Zhang Rishan. “Who the hell is this?” he finally asks, seemingly leery of his proximity to Liu Sang, and prepared to be hostile about the rather intimate way Zhang Rishan's arm is still wrapped protectively around him.

“Detective Zhang Rishan, Changsha Public Security Bureau. I'm his...” he begins, and then trails off, as he realizes he actually has no idea where to even start to define the relationship between him and Liu Sang.

“He's my arresting officer,” Liu Sang helpfully provides for him. If he wasn't grimacing, he'd probably be smirking. “The Wang Family tried to frame me for your murder, like he said.” He jerks his chin in the direction of the dead man. “Detective Zhang is in charge of your case, and he's been following me all over Beijing for the last few days. I asked him to meet me here so I could prove you weren't really dead.”

Wang Can lets out a huffy breath. “Fucking hell, Liu Sang, really? You brought a cop in here with you?” His lip curls in a sneer, leaving no doubt as to his feelings on the matter. Given his upbringing, Zhang Rishan really can't blame him for it, and doesn't take it personally. “How many times have I told you, you can't trust the police?”

“I know, didi, but I don't have a choice at the moment. I need him. Help me up,” Liu Sang says suddenly, bracing his free hand against Zhang Rishan's arm and trying to get to his feet with limited success. He's about to protest, tell Liu Sang he doesn't think that's a good idea for him to be moving around, but Liu Sang interrupts him before he's even started speaking. “I'm not going to live long enough to bleed out if we don't move now.”

There's something to be said for the tacit understanding between twins. Common sense tells Zhang Rishan that Liu Sang's urgency has something to do with the Wang Family; he's been expecting more of them to arrive any minute. But Wang Can and Liu Sang's ability to communicate in specifics is beyond his comprehension.

“How many?” Wang Can asks.

“Seven...no, eight,” Liu Sang corrects as the imminent threat finally convinces Zhang Rishan to go against his better judgment and help lift him to his feet.

“Distance?”

“Within 100 meters, but none have a direct path to us. There are two teams. The first will arrive in under three minutes from that direction.” He points toward the corridor Zhang Rishan had come from. The corridor that leads back to the hidden garage, and the escape route beyond. “If we go now, we can get past them without being seen.”

“Then go now,” Wang Can says.

Despite the danger he'd just described, Liu Sang looks torn, even as he leans heavily against Zhang Rishan's side. “What about you? I can't just...”

“You can, and you will.” He gives Liu Sang a wistful smile. “They didn't go through all this trouble just to kill me now. As long as I stay here like a good boy, they aren't going to waste the bullet. They'll be more invested in stopping you because you know too much. Don't let them.” His gaze shifts to Zhang Rishan, and it seems he's temporarily willing to set aside his mistrust of law enforcement. “I meant what I said. I don't trust cops. But right now, what you are isn't important. You saved my brother's life once already, and that's good enough for me. Promise me you'll get him out of here alive.”

Zhang Rishan has never promised anyone anything more quickly. “You have my word. And I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to get you out of here once he's safe.”

Wang Can's eyes flicker briefly to Liu Sang, and an unspoken question passes between them. Zhang Rishan doesn't know what was asked, nor what the answer is, but when Wang Can's gaze shifts back to him, he seems grudgingly satisfied with that promise.

“Here,” Liu Sang says, pulling away from Zhang Rishan just long enough to limp unsteadily over to the fallen Wang guard. Gingerly he crouches down and takes the gun out of his limp hand, then hobbles his way over to the cell. The restraints keep Wang Can from getting all the way to the grating, and Liu Sang isn't capable of extending his arm to reach in, so he sets the pistol down and slides it across the floor with enough force to stop right at Wang Can's feet. “Take it just in case.”

“It's mine?” Wang Can asks, picking it up and turning it over as if he's looking for some kind of identifying feature.

“Why do you think he failed to kill me at such close range?” Liu Sang replies smugly, moving back to accept Zhang Rishan's support. Just that small amount of movement was enough to drain some of the colour from his face. His smile fades, replaced by a clear reluctance to walk away fro his brother. “Stay alive until we come back for you,” he says.

Smiling in a slightly unhinged way, Wang Can tucks the pistol safely behind his back where it won't be seen. “You too,” he says, and juts his chin in the direction of the exit as his gaze shifts to Zhang Rishan. “Don't make me regret trusting you. Keep him safe.”

Bringing Liu Sang's free arm around his shoulders and wrapping his own around his waist for added support, Zhang Rishan does as he's told and ushers Liu Sang away, cognizant of the fact that they probably have less than two minutes now. At first, the path is relatively direct, but he realizes when he comes to the first branch in the tunnel that he doesn't actually remember which way he came from—or which way leads to the exit.

But luckily he doesn't have to risk being wrong. Though he's admittedly a bit skeptical at first, Liu Sang unerringly guides the way with a level of accuracy that suggests an intimate familiarity with the underground tunnels. Zhang Rishan doesn't ask how he knows. He's not actually sure he wants to know. As long as it works, and it gets them out without further conflict or bodily harm, he's willing to ignore the implications, telling himself that Liu Sang simply has an amazing memory and there's nothing more to it.

The way back seems to take infinitely longer, even accounting for their significantly slower pace, but at last, Zhang Rishan shoulders open the door propped ajar by Liu Sang's takeout box and, at his assurance that there's no firing squad outside waiting for them, steps out into the low natural light of the parking structure. It's honestly somewhat astounding to him that the Wangs haven't anticipated their escape route and made a play to intercept them. Perhaps keeping their illegal activities hidden is simply more important to them. Or perhaps they've set another trap and are simply laying in wait, giving him and Liu Sang a false sense of security by allowing them this easy escape. Or perhaps the flashing police lights he can see on the level above are Wang allies, there to intercept them—or if they aren't, they're enough of a deterrent that the Wang Family aren't willing to show themselves.

Although he has no guarantee that the Wangs wouldn't be so bold as to send hitmen after them in broad daylight, Zhang Rishan decides taking the time to call Wu Xie for help is worth the risk. He doesn't think Liu Sang has it in him to walk much further, and he's not quite willing to risk approaching the police car yet, knowing what he does about the Beijing Bureau. At the very least, Wu Xie might be able to tell him whether the team above is friend or foe.

Helping Liu Sang to lean against one of the larger Wang fleet vehicles, Zhang Rishan holsters his pistol and reaches for his phone instead, stopping the recording once he realizes it's been going this whole time. He'll definitely have to cut it down a bit before he shares it with anyone, if only to avoid implicating Liu Sang or Wang Can in anything illegal. Like, for example, the ownership of a firearm, which Liu Sang had expressly told him he did not have. Even though he now understands why the twins had kept a secret weapon hidden in their apartment and is willing to overlook it, he doubts the impartial eye of a judge would agree that there were extenuating circumstances at play, and thus neither one of them should be charged.

It's already going to take a hell of a lot of quick thinking and even more smooth talking to keep them both out of prison, even if Liu Sang is ultimately found innocent of murder. But he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. What matters most is keeping Liu Sang alive long enough to face this hypothetical inquiry.

Taking one more glance around and doing his best to shield Liu Sang should anyone suddenly approach, Zhang Rishan taps the button to call Wu Xie. He answers it on the first ring.

“Detective Zhang! Oh thank god, finally! I've been trying to call but your phone kept going straight to voicemail and I thought... Well, nevermind. Did you find him? Is he with you now? Where are you?” Wu Xie rattles off in a hushed whisper, as if he's afraid of blowing Zhang Rishan's cover if he's hiding somewhere without ambient noise.

“Liu Sang is with me, but he's wounded and losing blood,” he replies, keeping his own voice just as low. “We could use a lift. We're in the lowest level of the parking structure across the street from the Wang Family building.”

“Oh!” Wu Xie says, sounding more surprised than concerned. “We're already here! Up by the entrance. Can you see our flashing lights from where you are? We started to notice—“ He cuts off with the kind of sound that one might make if one was elbowed in the ribs by one's partner. “Right, okay, I'll explain later. Let's get you out of there first. The gate to the sub-level is pretty solid, and isn't responding to any of our emergency vehicle overrides. Disabling it will take time, and even with Xiaoge in charge of crowd control, our presence has attracted too many bystanders to risk destroying it. Can you make it up to us?”

“Uh...” Zhang Rishan starts. He's genuinely not sure, given that Liu Sang is leaning heavily against the black fleet car with his eyes closed, looking about three seconds away from passing out, regardless of his previous timeline. “I'm not—“

“I can make it,” Liu Sang murmurs, although how he'd overheard Zhang Rishan's conversation at all, given his call volume isn't that high, is something of a mystery.

He hesitates for only a moment, then replies, “We'll come to you.”

Wu Xie hums. “We'll pull as close as we can. Oh, and don't worry about the cameras on your way out. We cut the power to all non-essential electrical circuits in here. They won't see a thing.” There's a certain smugness to his voice that makes even Liu Sang smile faintly.

Thanking him, Zhang Rishan ends the call, and as he does, he can see the silhouette of the utility vehicle Pangzi drives pull into full view at the top of the ramp. The window rolls down, and the man himself peers out, shading his eyes with his hand as he scans the relative darkness to try and spot them. They may still be deep in enemy territory, but being able to verify the presence of a few allies is a welcome relief.

All they need to do now is get Liu Sang the last few meters to safety. Which may be easier said than done. Even with Zhang Rishan at his side, as soon as he steps away from the solid support of the car, his knees buckle and he stumbles, unable to bite back a cry of pain as he jars the wound in his abdomen. The fresh spatter of blood on the pavement makes it clear they can't waste any more time.

Without thinking, Zhang Rishan crouches down. “Get on,” he tells Liu Sang, patting his shoulder. Liu Sang hesitates, and for a moment, he's afraid he'll refuse outright to spare his own sense of dignity. But the shallow breath he'd taken to protest punches back out of him, and he gingerly climbs on to Zhang Rishan's back, looping his arms around his neck as tightly as he dares.

Once he's secure, Zhang Rishan rises to his feet and travels the distance between the sub-level and the entrance as quickly as he possibly can without jostling Liu Sang and making things worse. As it is, he can feel Liu Sang start to wane, and by the time they reach Wu Xie and Pangzi, his arms have relaxed their grip and his chin is settled heavily on Zhang Rishan's shoulder.

In the bright natural light of the ground level, it's shockingly apparent just how deathly pale he is. Zhang Rishan gently maneuvers him to lay across the back seat, then climbs in himself, cradling Liu Sang's head in his lap and keeping his other arm loosely across his chest to prevent him flying off if there's an accident or the car makes any sudden movements. Wu Xie turns around in his seat, takes one look at him, and taps Pangzi on the shoulder. “Tell Xiaoge to get in the back. We're going directly to the hospital.”

Though he doesn't look conscious, Liu Sang flinches as Pangzi shouts out the window to Zhang Qiling, and again as the rear lift gate opens and slams shut again. He pries his eyes open just far enough to look up at Zhang Rishan and shakes his head. “No hospitals,” he says faintly, his words on the verge of slurring together. “They'll be watching.” With that, Liu Sang's eyes slip closed again, and a moment later, his entire body goes limp.

“Did I hear that right?” Pangzi says from the driver's seat as he expertly turns the car around and exits the garage, lights still flashing. “Did that Jinx really just say 'no hospitals'?”

“He's right,” comes Zhang Qiling's quiet voice from inside the cargo space. “If the Wang Family know he's been seriously wounded, they'll have eyes on all of the hospitals. Maybe veterinarians in the area, too.”

“Right,” Wu Xie agrees. “They've already sent the dogs after you, metaphorically speaking. That's why we were inside the garage. We were waiting in the car, and noticed an increased police presence. Xiaoge was the first to see that all of the uniforms in the immediate vicinity of the Wang building were their people. No doubt they were hoping to have one of their assets pick you up right off the street with some bogus accusation, and take you right back. So we started looking too, when we couldn't contact you by phone. Xiaoge was also the first one to realize the coordinates Liu Sang gave you were in that garage, so we pulled in to wait just in case you came back that way. Good thing we did; the Wangs probably thought we were one of them and had the area covered. It kept their actual lapdogs away, and it let us pick you up right away. Win/win.”

“Back to the point,” Pangzi mutters, irritably running his fingers through his already flyaway hair. “No one's going to win if this kid doesn't get help, and fast. If we can't go to any of the hospitals, where am I supposed to take him? We can't let him bleed out in the back seat.”

Although it's highly inappropriate, Zhang Rishan can't stop himself from reaching down to brush some of Liu Sang's hair away from his face. No, letting him die is simply not an option. “I know where we can go,” he says. “Have you heard of the Xinyue Hotel?”

Chapter Text

When Liu Sang wakes again, he makes a series of groggy but distinct observations before he even opens his eyes, each of which surprises him more than the last.

First and foremost, he isn't dead. Stiff and sore, yes, but alive. And probably loaded up on strong painkillers because his entire body feels a little like its floating. In any case, he doesn't hurt nearly as much as he thinks he should, given there's a hole in his side.

He's also pleasantly surprised to notice that his wishes to avoid the hospital have been respected. The bed he's laying in is luxuriously comfortable, and the blankets are soft and warm. And if that didn't make it obvious enough, the room he's in is adequately dark and blissfully quiet. He can't tell whether the darkness is natural or artificial, but it's a welcome change to the bright fluorescent light of most hospitals. Even better, there are no beeping monitors, no annoyingly steady fluid drips, no cacophony of ambient sound from dozens of doctors performing procedures on dozens of patients in varying degrees of pain. There's no one here but him.

Well. Almost no one.

Which brings him to his third observation. The only other person in the expansive room is sitting next to him on the edge of the bed, lightly dozing off. While loosely holding his hand. Liu Sang can't remember a single time in his life when anyone has cared enough to do that for him. To sit and watch over him this way. Maybe his mother did, once upon a time, but he'd been so young when she died, he has no clear memory left of it if she had. Any time he'd gotten hurt or sick after her passing, it had been his responsibility to handle it on his own. And while he distinctly remembers Wang Can worriedly buying him a pharmacy's worth of cold medicine the last time he'd fallen ill, his brother simply wasn't—and isn't—the sort of person to coddle him through it with constant companionship and hand holding.

And the fact that his own brother would never makes his next realization all the more astonishing. Because it's the last thing he would have expected from Detective Zhang, a near-stranger who had, until a short time ago, been tracking him down to arrest him on suspicion of murder. If this is his chosen method of preventing Liu Sang from running away, it's certainly an unconventional one.

Besides, Liu Sang isn't about to be running anywhere any time soon.

Still, despite the unexpected and somewhat presumptive nature of the gesture, he doesn't find it unpleasant. It's thoughtful of Detective Zhang to ensure that he'd wake up knowing he wasn't alone. He's already done so much for Liu Sang, but it's this small kindness that says the most about the sort of man he is. And Liu Sang has to admit, he kind of likes it.

Cautiously slitting his eyes open, Liu Sang dares a glance up at him and smiles softly to himself. Just as his ears had told him, Detective Zhang is sitting beside him, back propped up against the headboard of the bed and his chin tipped forward as he lightly dozes. His normally perfectly-styled hair has gotten a little mussed, sending a few locks tumbling forward to brush his cheekbones. He's changed his clothes from earlier—probably because Liu Sang had bled all over his shirt before, but maybe he's just been out longer than he'd initially thought—and there's a bandage on the crook of his arm. Which strikes Liu Sang as strange, because he knows for a fact that Detective Zhang hadn't been injured during their escape. He'd guaranteed it, by rerouting their path through the tunnels whenever he heard the Wang guards getting too close. Had something happened while he was unconscious?

As if somehow aware of the sudden scrutiny, Detective Zhang takes a deep breath and stirs back to wakefulness, blinking into the semi-darkness of the room, as if he's not quite sure of where he is at first. But then his gaze falls on Liu Sang, and if he didn't think it would hurt so much, he might have laughed at the progression of emotions that flash across Detective Zhang's face. Relief is prime among them, of course, but once he realizes that his fingers are still wrapped around Liu Sang's hand, it's overpowered by sheer mortification as he quickly mutters an apology and withdraws the touch.

Leaving Liu Sang with his most shocking observation to date- he doesn't want Detective Zhang to let go.

“You're awake,” he says, stating the obvious just to have something to say, but it does nothing to hide his embarrassment from Liu Sang's ears. Clearly he hadn't meant for the gesture to be discovered. Which begs the question, why had he done it at all, if not for Liu Sang's benefit? Surely, he couldn't... “How are you feeling?”

The question interrupts his train of thought, and forces him to actually take stock of his own condition. There's a lingering numbness in his side that indicates the use of a local anesthetic, and an acute sting at the crook of his own elbow that he hadn't been aware of until just now. His shirt is once again missing—probably ruined anyway—and his entire torso is wrapped in thick itchy bandages. There's a pounding ache in his head, and his blood pressure is still on the low side from the blood loss, although not as low as he might have expected, given that he doesn't feel like he was out for that long. Still, all things considered... “Much better than before,” he replies honestly, wincing at the hoarse static in his own voice.

“I'm glad,” Detective Zhang says. “You had us worried for a while.” He must have anticipated Liu Sang's thirst, because he reaches for a glass with a straw that's already sitting on the bedside table, and helps him gingerly prop himself up far enough to sip it without pouring water all over himself.

It gives him a chance to look around the room he's in, and when he does, he's able to make yet another observation. The bed he's in isn't the only thing that's luxurious. The entire room is decorated in antique furniture and expensive décor, but not in a tacky, showy way. Everything seems deliberately curated to fit together into a cohesive design, and while he's no expert, he's pretty sure it's laid out in accordance with the rules of feng shui. He's never seen anything quite like it. “Where am I?” he finally asks.

“The Xinyue Hotel,” Detective Zhang replies, and Liu Sang nearly chokes on his next breath. He'd heard of it, when he lived in Beijing, but had never set foot anywhere near it because of its reputation for extravagance. He was afraid even breathing the air in its vicinity was out of his budget. “My sister-in-law, Yin Xinyue, is the owner's daughter. I spent enough time here when I was younger to have a standing suite of my own to use when I'm in town. You'll be safe here.”

Stunned that Detective Zhang would essentially bring him to his second home, and probably pay out of pocket for whatever doctor had come here in secret to treat him, Liu Sang can't help but see him in an entirely new light. “Thank you,” he repeats. “For saving my life. Twice. And for...everything else.”

Detective Zhang smiles at him and shakes his head. “It's my duty to protect the innocent. I was only doing what I should do.”

Liu Sang blinks, and seizes on his choice of words. “The innocent? Does that mean you believe me now?”

Detective Zhang's smile turns wistful. “Liu Sang,” he starts, firmly but not unkindly. “Even if I hadn't seen that Wang Can is alive with my own eyes... I believed you before you left Changsha. I wanted to tell you, but you kept running away from me.”

The truthfulness of his admission genuinely floors Liu Sang all over again. “But... You...,” he stammers, unable to actually articulate any of the thoughts swirling around in his head.

“Did you think I followed you all the way to Beijing to arrest you?” Detective Zhang asks, and Liu Sang silently nods. He lets out a soft breath and settles himself into a more comfortable position. “I came to protect you. From the very beginning, I had a gut feeling that this case wasn't as straightforward as it seemed. That I was missing some important piece of the puzzle. And mostly, that was because of you.”

“Me?” he asks, brow furrowing.

Detective Zhang hums a yes. “When I first met you that day in the morgue, I could tell your shock and grief were genuine. You didn't act like someone who was feigning ignorance or innocence despite being perfectly aware that their loved one was already dead, killed by their own hand. And while I readily admit, some of the evidence was strong enough to make me doubt my own instincts, and there were times that I was certain you were lying to me for reasons I couldn't explain, I could never quite bring myself to believe you were capable of cold-blooded murder.” He hesitates before adding, “Regardless of your past.”

Liu Sang looks away, afraid to see the same accusation in Detective Zhang's eyes that he'd seen from every other officer who had ever talked to him about his past. Of course he had gone digging into Liu Sang's life, and of course that incident would have stood out as significant when considering his capacity to murder his own family. He doesn't really want to have to defend himself all over again, not with the trauma of that accusation still haunting him.

But Detective Zhang is nothing like that man who threatened him and screamed in his face when he was fourteen. Liu Sang feels like he deserves to hear the truth, and maybe he'll be willing to believe him this time, too. “I didn't hurt my family,” he says, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his hands in his lap. “I wasn't home when the fire started. You see, Detective Zhang, I didn't have the best childhood. Our mother died when we were very young, and then Wang Can and I were split up. I didn't realize until much later that he'd been kidnapped by the Wangs and turned into their pawn. All I knew was that I had a brother, and then one day I didn't. For a few years, I was passed around to more foster families than I can count, none of whom cared much about what happened to me. And then I was reunited with my birth father.

“I thought maybe things would finally be better, would finally be normal, but by that time, he'd remarried, and they had another child of their own. My father resented me for uprooting their life, and my step-mother felt threatened by my presence, fearing that my step-brother would be left out of any future inheritance now that the first-born son had returned. I was too young to really understand what any of that meant. All I knew was that they vented most of their frustrations on me. So I stayed away. I spent as much time as I could out in the woods behind our house. There were caves out there, and I'd pretend I was a pirate or an adventurer or a tomb raider while I explored them. I got pretty good at it, even the dangerous ones.

“And then one day, as I was coming back from the woods, I saw the smoke. I ran all the way home, and when I got there, I could hear my parents and my baby brother, still trapped inside. I tried to get to them, to my brother at least, but I wasn't strong enough to break down the door, and the fire had already spread too far. The fire department pulled me away and sent me to the hospital. And then the police came, accusing me of setting the fire on purpose and telling me that my family was dead because of me. I believed him, because I thought I could have saved them if I'd just come home sooner.”

Detective Zhang tentatively reaches out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, and it's only then that Liu Sang realizes he's been crying. He raises a somewhat uncoordinated hand up to try and brush away the tears, wary of tugging at his wound. “I found out years later that the fire was intentional. My father was in deep debt, and he thought he could bail himself out by claiming the insurance money from the house. But he didn't know what he was doing, and underestimated how fast the fire would catch. Maybe it was always his intention to pin the blame on me, and that's why he did it when I wasn't home. I'll never get an answer to that. But I never would have hurt them, no matter how hard it was to live with them. They were still my family. Just like Wang Can.”

“I believe you,” Detective Zhang says, honestly and without hesitation. “And I understand why that might have made it difficult for you to trust me with the truth of Wang Can's case. You couldn't be sure that I would help you, and not just believe the evidence and arrest you, right?”

Liu Sang nods again. “Even if I thought you'd be open to the possibility that I was set up, I knew I'd have to reveal Wang Can's connection to the Wang Family, and you'd find out about all the illegal things he's been forced to do since he was just a child. I was so afraid that if I admitted his guilt, I'd get him back from them, only to lose him again when you put him in jail for the rest of his life. I still am afraid. Wang Can never had a choice in the things they conditioned him to do for them, and he doesn't deserve to lose his freedom for it when he's been trying so hard to get out of that life and make something better of himself.”

Detective Zhang gives his shoulder a light squeeze. “I can't change what happened in the past, or erase the accusations made against you. And I can't guarantee that neither you nor Wang Can will face any repercussions for the actions you've taken regarding the Wang Family. But if you're willing to cooperate with me from now on, I can promise that I will clear your name of the murder charges, advocate for leniency to the best of my ability, and do everything I can to bring Wang Can back to you safely. Do you believe me?”

“I believe you,” he parrots just as readily, extending the same honesty to Detective Zhang. As long as he can get Wang Can back alive, Liu Sang is willing to face the consequences of his choices this past week.

“Good,” Detective Zhang says with a soft smile, giving his shoulder another gentle squeeze. “Then if you're willing and you feel up to it, I'd like you to talk to my colleagues from the Beijing Public Safety Bureau. They've been working in secret to gather evidence of the Wang Family's misdeeds in an effort to topple the entire organization. All they need is the missing link between the public face of the company, and the illicit activity it's funding. I've already given them my testimony, and the evidence I collected from the underground tunnels, but I think yours is even more valuable.”

Loathe as he is to involve any more police, Liu Sang can hear the earnestness in Detective Zhang's voice. He's legitimately trying his best to act within the framework of the law, and he genuinely believes that these colleagues of his can achieve their goal. “Okay,” he agrees, thinking not just of Wang Can, but of the captive women and children he'd heard hidden in the tunnels. If talking to more police can get them out, can grant them safety and freedom, then he's willing to do it. He owes it to all of them to try.

Detective Zhang doesn't say anything, but Liu Sang can hear how subtly pleased he is that he's agreed to help. Like he's actually proud of Liu Sang for making the right choice. And it's a little embarrassing how much that pleases him in return. Regardless of what they've been through together, Detective Zhang is still essentially a stranger, and a cop to boot. Liu Sang shouldn't really care what he thinks of him. And yet...

Giving his shoulder one last squeeze, Detective Zhang swings himself off the bed and stands. “I'm sure the others are anxious for an update now that you're awake. I'll go and tell them you've agreed to speak with them.” He pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “It doesn't have to be tonight, if you feel you need to rest now. But given Wang Can's condition, and the risk of further harm if we delay, I'm sure all of us want to act as quickly as possible.”

“I don't want to wait,” Liu Sang agrees. Leaving Wang Can behind was the hardest thing he's ever had to do, and despite his brother's reassurances, he's afraid of what the Wangs might do to him in retaliation. There aren't enough bullets in the gun to protect him from all of them. And even if they don't hurt him, they could move him again, take him somewhere far away, where Liu Sang would never find him.

Detective Zhang smiles softly at him. “I understand,” he says as he opens the door to leave. “I'll go get them now.”

He leaves the bedroom door cracked far enough that Liu Sang, in spite of his weakened condition, can hear the conversation in the next room. By the time they'd reached the ground level and gotten into their getaway car, he'd been fading in and out of consciousness, but he can still identify the other voices as familiar. And it's a relief to hear for himself that they're trustworthy. He can't pick up any signs of deceit in their relief that he's awake, or in their excitement to move forward with their plans against the Wang Family. It puts his last few lingering doubts about trusting anyone other than Detective Zhang to rest; there are no well-hidden Wang moles here.

Chapter Text

Detective Zhang returns a few minutes later with his three colleagues in tow, and a bowl of light broth deemed safe for Liu Sang to have by Doctor Mo, the woman who had saved his life. Liu Sang spends the next hour or so dutifully sipping spoonfuls of it while telling Detective Wu Xie everything he'd learned about the Wang Family's clandestine underground criminal enterprise. It seems even they had underestimated just how much was going on right under their noses, and there's swift, universal outrage when he reveals the presence of women and children in the building at this very moment.

“How could you possibly know all of this?” Wu Xie finally asks, dumbfounded, after he's lowered himself into the nearest chair.

“I could hear it,” he admits, and from somewhere off to his right, he can hear the lightbulb click on in Detective Zhang's head as a dozen scattered pieces of a puzzle fit into place all at once. “Ever since I was a child, I had exceptional hearing. Not surprisingly, knowing everyone's secrets, whether you want to or not, doesn't make you very popular with...anyone, really. So I didn't have many friends. I spent a lot of time outside, where it was quiet, and I learned how to use my ears to map and explore caves and abandoned buildings and stuff. The woman who took me in after my family died wasn't really my grandmother, but she taught me how to hone my skills, so I never bothered to contradict the story she told. I owe her a lot. Anyway, I pretended to deliver an order from the noodle restaurant across the street to get inside, and once I did, I was able to visualize the entire structure, and everyone in it.

“Mostly I was just trying to find my brother's pulse to make sure he was there, and he was alive, but it was hard to miss the amount of suffering from the Wang Family's other victims. And impossible not to hear their illegal activities. They're confident that no one will ever be able to locate the tunnels...or leave alive, if they do. If I hadn't been able to use my hearing to avoid the guards they sent after us, we never would have made it out either.” Liu Sang glances up at Detective Zhang, who is staring at him in thinly veiled awe.

He returns his attention to Wu Xie and his partners. “If you want, I can draw you a map. I can tell you how many people there were in the building at the time, too, but obviously that might have changed since.”

“You mean you remember it?” Wang Pangzi exclaims, blustering in his disbelief. “No way. No possible way. How do we even know you're not with them, given how much you know about their operation? What if he's telling us all this just to lead us into a trap?”

“Pangzi!” Wu Xie admonishes, and even Zhang Qiling, utterly silent up to that point, makes a soft sound of disgruntled disapproval.

Liu Sang can't help but bristle. He's had enough of false accusations in his life to last him the rest of it, without this loud-mouthed cop from Beijing piling on. “Si Panzi,” he mutters under his breath. “I got shot by them, remember?”

“How could I forget? You got blood all over the back seat of my favourite undercover vehicle, you little Jinx,” he grumbles in return, jabbing his finger in Liu Sang's direction.

He opens his mouth to throw another insult back, but it dies in his throat when Detective Zhang's hand settles lightly on the nape of his neck. “I can personally vouch for Liu Sang,” he says, and his tone leaves no room for disagreement. “If he was working with them, I'd probably be laying dead in a tunnel somewhere. It's because of him that we escaped at all. Liu Sang is a victim—and an enemy—of the Wang Family, not a collaborator. I've seen with my own eyes that he has no phoenix tattoo. Even if you're hesitant to trust him, I hope you'll at least trust me.”

There's a slightly apologetic look in Detective Zhang's eyes at his admission that he's seen Liu Sang partly naked without his consent, but it makes sense that he had. This is his room, after all; he'd probably been keeping a close eye on things, making sure nothing got ruined by bringing a stranger with a gunshot wound here for emergency treatment.

Wang Pangzi still looks skeptical, but he backs down, grumbling to himself, and while it's hard to make out many specifics in his accented gripes, Liu Sang does catch a few words, like 'ungrateful' and 'only alive because of you'.

And suddenly a puzzle piece of his own clicks into place. “Is that true?” he interrupts Pangzi's mumbling to look up at Detective Zhang, who, not having Liu Sang's gift of acute hearing, seems to have no clue what he's talking about. “Did you use your own blood to save me?” he clarifies, and feels Detective Zhang's fingers tighten reflexively on his skin, giving Liu Sang an answer before he even nods yes.

“We didn't have many options, and I'm a universal donor,” he admits. “I'm very popular and in high demand at every Bureau blood drive, I'll have you know. Anyway, I was screened just last month and cleared for donation, so the procedure was as safe as it could possibly be, given that this is a hotel, not a hospital.”

Liu Sang genuinely doesn't know what to say. 'Thank you' seems a wholly inadequate thing to repeat to the man who he now knows has saved his life three times in just the last day, give or take. Who had given part of himself so Liu Sang would live. He's never going to be able to repay the debt he owes to Detective Zhang. And that's not even counting what he'll owe him if he's able to get Wang Can out from the Wang Family dungeon.

“The map,” Zhang Qiling speaks up after a few prolonged moments of silence, reminding them all that they're supposed to be planning a mission, for which time is of the essence.

“Right. The map,” Wu Xie agrees, and leans forward in his chair. “Can you really do what you said?”

“Yes,” Liu Sang says confidently. Granted, it's easier to draw on the spot, when the image in his mind's eye is in real time, but he hasn't forgotten. He can still do it. “If you don't have a stylus tablet available, I can do it on paper, but I'm going to need one sheet for every level of the building, or else it will be too confusing.”

Pangzi chuckles. “Well, if it's too hard for you...”

“Too confusing for you to read, I mean,” he snaps back, huffing as Detective Zhang hands him a few sheets of paper and a pencil, then swings a writing desk out from a hidden niche in the bedside table so he can sit comfortably without twisting himself into knots. Even so, the longer he works, the harder it gets. At some point, he becomes vaguely aware of the return of Detective Zhang's hand, his long fingers gently kneading at the muscles in his neck, and it helps, but the combination of the movement of his arm and the anesthetic fully wearing off leaves him in considerable pain by the time he finally finishes and everyone else gathers around to look.

“If you start by blocking off the stairwells and the elevators,” he explains, pointing out those spots on the ground level blueprint, “you'll cut off access of the off-duty Wang forces living on the upper levels. They won't be able to provide backup, unless they decide to give up the ruse and fight their way out. Then you can send in the main force through these underground access points.” He switches to the sheet on which he's drawn out the extensive and complicated tunnel system. “Those are marked with X's, and most of them are in adjoining basements, like the parking structure. You can see how far these tunnels stretch beyond the limits of the building above. That's how they've been getting in and out without your various surveillance teams spotting them.”

Wu Xie picks up a few of the sheets, glancing between them and Liu Sang, and openly marveling at both. He's labeled all of the relevant information he can think of, from where the women and children are being held, to Wang Can's location, to the fastest routes between various locations. “This is incredible,” he says. “If we can prove even a fraction of this, we can completely destroy them. You've given us more credible intelligence on their activity and numbers in a single day than we've gotten in years on our own.” For a moment, he looks like he might actually want to kiss Liu Sang, but restrains himself.

“How fast can you organize a raid?” Detective Zhang asks.

“No more than two hours,” Zhang Qiling says, and means it.

“The Wangs aren't the only spies hidden in the police force,” Wu Xie elaborates. “We have our own network of carefully placed operatives ready and waiting for our signal. Most of them relatives of yours and Xiaoge's, actually.” He glances between Zhang Qiling and Detective Zhang, and only then can Liu Sang see the faint family resemblance between them. “When they get it, they'll drop what they're doing and act instantly, and once they've taken care of neutralizing all the Wang moles in the Bureau, they'll join us with a warrant in hand and make up our main force. Like Xiaoge said, we'll be ready to move on their headquarters in less than two hours.”

“I want to go with you,” Liu Sang says, even though he knows it's an objectively foolish and impossible demand. Just the normally minimal effort of putting the map on paper has left him pale and shaky, shivering from a layer of cold sweat. Hell, he's not even sure he can make it to the en-suite bathroom on his own, much less back into the Wang building, but he can't leave this to chance. “I don't want my brother to get caught up in your sweep and arrested because he's marked like them.”

Unsurprisingly, he's met by a unified chorus of “No”, “Absolutely not”, and one “Like hell!” courtesy of Wang Pangzi, proving that, despite his accusatory grumblings, he actually does care whether Liu Sang lives or dies.

“Liu Sang,” Wu Xie placates, at least trying not to be patronizing even if he doesn't quite succeed, “this operation is going to be difficult, and potentially dangerous, if things go sideways. I can't, in good conscience, let an already-injured civilian be part of it, no matter how skilled you are at avoiding danger. If anything happens to you...” He glances sideways at Detective Zhang, and Liu Sang can't quite grasp what his expression says as he looks for backup.

If we let anything else happen to you,” Detective Zhang takes over, “I'll never forgive myself. Neither will Wang Can, and I would prefer not to have to arrest him for attempted murder. I made a promise to him that I would keep you alive, and I intend to keep it, regardless of his personal feelings about me and my profession. I also promised him that I would do everything I could to get him out. I intend to keep that one, as well. But that will require your trust,” he glances down at Liu Sang, “and your cooperation.” His gaze turns to Wu Xie and his team.

“What do you need us to do?” Pangzi asks.

“Help me get inside, and turn a blind eye,” he replies bluntly. “Officially speaking, I'm on a two-week suspension, considering I allowed an accused murderer to escape from right under my nose.” The corner of Detective Zhang's mouth tugs upward into a brief lopsided smile as he gives Liu Sang a side-eyed glance. “None of my actions here in Beijing are sanctioned by the Changsha Bureau. In fact, they will disavow any knowledge of my presence here, should I get myself into trouble. As far as they're concerned, I'm here on vacation. Even if I was here on official business, I would have no just cause to join in your task force, considering I've already apprehended my suspect.”

Liu Sang feels himself flush. He's pretty sure detectives don't usually look at their apprehended suspects with quite so much fondness. He's even more certain it's not supposed to be mutual. But what does he know?

There's a sparkle in Detective Zhang's eyes and a silent laugh in his voice when he continues speaking. “Since my name won't be appearing on any personnel lists, I'll have the freedom to act outside the bounds of standard protocol without jeopardizing the case against the Wang Family. In other words, even if they attempt to accuse your team of misconduct or procedural error using my actions as proof, they'll have no legal leg to stand on because, officially speaking, I was never there. If you're willing to overlook my presence,” he says, looking back to Wu Xie, “all I need is a clear path and fifteen minutes to get Wang Can out and away safely.”

“So you're saying you want us to let you carry out an extrajudicial rescue operation, and keep both your name and Wang Can's off the record?” Wu Xie asks, and for a moment, Liu Sang is afraid he won't agree. That he's unwilling to consider anything that breaks from standard procedure, anything that has even the slightest chance of endangering this case he's spent years of his life building, no matter how justified. Or that allowing any of the Wang Family to walk free, regardless of the circumstances, would go too far, and violate his own personal code of ethics or something.

So it's both a surprise and a relief when Wu Xie glances between Wang Pangzi and Zhang Qiling, and the three of them share a conspiratorial nod. “I think we can make that work,” Pangzi says, grinning devilishly.

Wu Xie drums his fingers absently on the desk's surface for a few moments while he thinks. “Based on our very limited knowledge of your murder case,” he says sagely, deliberately stressing the words for emphasis, “Wang Can is in a morgue freezer in Changsha. And if that's true, then it's impossible for him to also be here in Beijing.”

“Can't be in two places at once,” Pangzi chimes in, shaking his head just as sagely.

“Even if it was possible that your murder victim ended up in Beijing somehow, it's not our case, and it's not our body. I don't have any reason to stop you from reclaiming him. In fact, it would be our sworn duty to return Wang Can to the officer in charge of the case, regardless of the status or condition of said body. So it's actually very lucky you just happened to be here on vacation, Detective Zhang.” Wu Xie's eyes dart between him and Liu Sang, a wide grin on his face.

“You take your walking corpse back to Changsha where he belongs,” Pangzi adds, scowling melodramatically and jabbing a finger in their general direction. “Zombies aren't handled by our department. Right, Xiaoge?”

Zhang Qiling only hums serenely.

“Good, then it's settled,” Wu Xie says. “When we start our operation, our team will give you cover to get inside the tunnels. You'll have fifteen minutes to find Wang Can and get out before we lock the building down and make our sweep. At that point, no one will be allowed in or out. Not even you. Got it?”

“Understood,” Detective Zhang says as if he's responding to military orders, then turns his gaze to Liu Sang, eyes softening. “The only consent I need now is yours. Will you trust me to act in your stead and bring your brother home to you?”

Liu Sang meets his gaze unflinchingly, searching the depths of his eyes, just like he did in the morgue that day. It's been less than a week, but that already feels like a lifetime ago. And in that time, Detective Zhang has never lied to him. He's treated Liu Sang with kindness and respect, even when all the evidence was against him. Every promise he's made so far, he's kept. Liu Sang owes this man his very life. To doubt him now would be unconscionable.

“I trust you,” he replies, and hesitantly lifts his hand to cover Zhang Rishan's, still resting on his shoulder. He can feel the full-body jolt of surprise as it goes through him, ending in a long, controlled exhale of breath as his pulse ticks up by a fraction. Something unspoken passes between them, a certain mutual acknowledgment of what could be if this tiny first spark is given half a chance to catch. But there's an understanding, too, that this isn't the best time to nurture it. Not when there are still so many uncertainties.

Unfortunately for Liu Sang, while this 'something' might have been unspoken, it hasn't gone unseen. He is suddenly acutely aware of the air of awkwardness that has settled in amongst Wu Xie and his team, still gathered around them on the large bed.

“Okay!” Wu Xie exclaims, practically jumping up from his perch on the edge like the duvet had just scalded him. “Well, we have...some planning to do, and preparations to make, so...we'll just...see ourselves out. Take your time,” he tells Detective Zhang with a bark of anxious laughter. “We won't be leaving for a while yet.” Wu Xie grabs Zhang Qiling's sleeve and tugs at it until he, too, stands and obediently follows, his expression as unruffled as ever.

Unlike Wang Pangzi, who is already halfway to the door, with his hand shielding his eyes. “Tianzhen, you owe me hotpot!” he shouts on his way out, sending a frisson of pain shooting through Liu Sang's head.

Wu Xie and Zhang Qiling aren't far behind, mercifully beating a much quieter retreat and closing the door behind them.

Once they're alone, Liu Sang lets out a soft breath and withdraws his hand, letting it fall back into his lap as he shifts his position in an attempt to relieve the ever-present ache in his side. He'd only wanted to show Detective Zhang that his trust in him was—is—genuine. He hadn't meant to make it weird by broadcasting his complicated feelings to the whole room. Not when he barely understands them himself. And even if he did, he's not ready to do anything about them. There's too much weighing on his mind already to add working through this strange emerging crush on the police detective sent to arrest him for his own brother's murder to the mix.

Luckily, it seems Detective Zhang is of the same mind. Instead of seeking a more definitive answer on where they stand with each other now, he gives Liu Sang's shoulder another light squeeze and lets go, pulling away from him to stand. Contrary to the others, though, it doesn't feel like he's running away from an awkward situation. Nor is he giving off any of the telltale signals of someone who's advances have been spurned or outright rejected. In fact, he seems perfectly content to suspend these hints of a mutual attraction here in this moment—with the option to return to them at a later one—happy enough just to have gained Liu Sang's trust.

“I'll go try and quash the rumour mill,” he says, though his sardonic smile suggests he doesn't much like his odds. “I have some preparations of my own to make, and you...should get some rest. We've asked a lot of you tonight.” He reaches out and gathers the sheets of hand-drawn building plans that Wu Xie and his team had left behind in their haste, then returns the writing desk to its niche so Liu Sang won't bump into it if he wants to lay flat again. “I won't disturb you if you've already fallen asleep by the time we leave. But the doctor will stay until we return with Wang Can, so if you wake at any point and need additional pain medication, you can call for her.” Detective Zhang points to an old-fashioned pull cord within reach of the bed that presumably connects to a bell or some other servant-summoning device left over from a bygone era. “Do you need anything else before I—”

“Wait,” he says, remembering one last important thing that he'd forgotten to put on the map drawings earlier. “Write this down. The access code for the door in the parking garage is 020621. Actually, all the hidden entrances to the tunnels use the same one. At least, I think so. I listened long enough to hear them use it at four different doors, in any case. As long as they haven't changed it, you'll be able to get in without raising any alarms.”

Detective Zhang nods at him and smiles. “Thank you, Liu Sang. Your help has proven invaluable, and countless lives will be saved because of it. Now try to get some sleep.” He gives Liu Sang a pointed look, then turns to go.

“Zhang Rishan,” he calls, and they both freeze at the simultaneous realization that this is the first time Liu Sang has called him by his name and not his title. He ducks his head to hide his flushed face behind a curtain of hair. “Whatever happens...come back alive.”

He doesn't have to be looking to hear the rush of fondness that floods out of every single one of Zhang Rishan's silent tells. Even his voice is rich with warmth when he softly murmurs, “I promise,” on his way out the door.

Chapter Text

Liu Sang had initially thought that he wouldn't be able to sleep, too keyed up with anxiety over what was about to happen, over what could go wrong, over finally being on the brink of getting his brother back. But he'd spent the better part of the last week awake, on the move, on alert, and then getting shot on top of it. In the relative quiet that followed the team's departure, he must have crashed hard, because the next thing he's aware of isn't the doctor coming to check on him or even Detective Zhang's return in the early hours of the morning. It's the bright light of mid-afternoon streaming in through the bedroom windows, the tantalizing smell of braised meat, and the faint sound of a soft-spoken conversation coming from the next room.

Recognition of both voices instantly drives away any lingering vestiges of fatigue, leaving only relief and elation in equal measure.

It takes a significant amount of effort, but eventually Liu Sang manages to get his feet under him, and—after a quick detour to the bathroom to relieve himself and freshen up a little—he slowly and gingerly makes his way to the door. He's had some idea of the layout of Detective Zhang's suite since the night before, but given that he'd been unconscious upon his arrival here, and then confined to his bed after that, everything else is a mystery, and he's not entirely sure what to expect when he pulls the door open.

But the sight of his brother and Zhang Rishan sitting across from each other and having a civil conversation over a food-laden table in what appears to be a full-sized kitchen isn't it.

Wang Can has cleaned up considerably since the last time Liu Sang saw him; his hair is clean and combed and back in its usual half-bun, and his clothes look brand new. Ever incapable of sitting properly in a chair, he has one foot flat on the seat, knee drawn up to his chest, while the other is bent, foot tucked tightly underneath his thigh. Every so often, he'll dip his chopsticks down to pick a bite of something from the table.

Despite the amount of food already, there are a few pots and pans still on the stove burners, and no one else in sight, suggesting that Detective Zhang is the one who had done all the cooking personally. Which is impressive, if true. There's enough there for a small army.

Bracing himself against the door frame, Liu Sang blinks and wonders vaguely if he's dreaming—or maybe hallucinating from the painkillers—because nothing about this scenario makes any sense to him whatsoever. At least, not up until Wang Can turns in his chair and notices him standing there in the doorway. His reaction is absolutely on brand.

“Liu Sang! What the fuck do you think you're doing out of bed?” he demands, although he can't do anything to mask his own overwhelming relief at seeing Liu Sang not just alive, but mobile. More or less.

Wang Can's colourful language and volatile temper are enough to dispel any notions Liu Sang has that this isn't real, at least. He's pretty sure a fictional version of his brother invented by his subconscious would be nicer to him in his wounded state. “What does it look like I'm doing?” he snarks back. “I heard your voice, so I'm coming to see you to make sure you aren't dead. Which I wouldn't have had to do if you'd come and told me you were back.”

“Don't bullshit me, I know you don't have to get up and walk to be able to judge my condition. And just because you were too soundly asleep to notice doesn't mean I didn't try to tell you,” Wang Can retorts, but he's already surrendered the argument, too grateful for this reunion to start a fight. “What kind of inconsiderate asshole would I be if I woke you up? You needed the rest.”

With the brief tempest passing as quickly as it came, Liu Sang's expression softens. “I just wanted to see you for myself. It's good to have you back, didi. Did everything...” He starts to ask, but trails off when Wang Can shoots him a look that silently tells him they aren't going to do this while he's still up on his feet. The only way he's going to get any answers is if he agrees to more rest. But he really doesn't want to go back to bed, not when his stomach has already taken notice of the assortment of delicious dishes on the table.

“Are you hungry?” Zhang Rishan asks as if on cue, rising gracefully from his chair. He swiftly crosses the room to Liu Sang's side, smiling gently and lending him an arm so he can make it the rest of the way to the table.

Liu Sang pointedly ignores the incredulous—and somewhat accusatory—expression on his brother's face as he eases into the chair next to him. As if he also didn't accept help from the very same cop just a few hours ago. As evidenced by the fact that he's here, and that there are fresh bandages adorning the worst of his mostly superficial injuries. Liu Sang is guessing the clothes are courtesy of Detective Zhang, too, and Wang Can had accepted those without a problem. Hypocrite.

The soft smile of appreciation he directs towards Zhang Rishan—not just for helping him to the table, but for keeping his promise to bring Wang Can back while staying alive himself—draws an equally soft 'ugh' from his brother, though it seems the bruising around his eye socket is preventing him from attempting to roll them. And not even his apparent disgust over Liu Sang's 'betrayal' is enough to stop him filling a bowl with some light, easily digestible foods—all, coincidentally, particular favourites of his—and sliding it over to him as he peruses the rest of the dishes on offer.

Actually... Now that he's paying attention, it's not just that Wang Can had chosen a few things he knows Liu Sang likes out of many options. It's that every dish on the table is one he likes. Which is either the world's most unlikely coincidence, or...

“I figured you'd be ready to eat when you woke up, so I asked Wang Can what kinds of food you liked best,” Zhang Rishan admits, accurately reading the suspicion on Liu Sang's face. He may be lacking Liu Sang's ability to hear unspoken cues, but he's apparently just as perceptive without them. It's probably part of what makes him so good at his job.

Liu Sang snorts a sarcastic laugh. “And he actually told you? Wow, so much for not cooperating with the police,” he teases, raising an inquisitive eyebrow in his brother's direction as he takes a small bite of ginger chicken. Though it's mild, it's surprisingly flavourful. He hadn't expected Zhang Rishan to be as skilled a cook as he is a detective.

“You know what, fuck you, Liu Sang,” Wang Can grumbles, but his words lack any real vitriol, and he follows them up by sneaking another choice morsel into Liu Sang's bowl. Zhang Rishan hides his amusement by turning his attention back to the few remaining dishes still on the stove.

For all his talk, Wang Can doesn't seem to have let his mistrust of law enforcement get in the way of his appetite either, if the empty dishes in front of him are any indication. In fact... When Liu Sang stops and thinks about it, there's been a conspicuous lack of hostility between Wang Can and Zhang Rishan for the entire time he's been awake to notice. Before he'd made his appearance and interrupted them, they'd actually been talking fairly amiably. And it's not just his brother playing nice because they're momentarily stuck in a room together, either. He's not even showing signs of internalized dislike.

It seems Liu Sang isn't the only one who's been won over by Zhang Rishan's integrity.

Case in point, when Zhang Rishan returns to the table with a bowl of fish soup in each hand and sets one down in front of Wang Can, he digs right into it without so much as a cautionary sniff first, and doesn't stop until he notices Liu Sang staring at him in bemusement. “Alright, fine,” he says irritably, not even waiting for Liu Sang to ask the question out loud. “This detective of yours isn't that bad. He did everything he said he would, including coming back for me, and...he's...actuallykindofabadass.” The words come out in a garbled rush, and even with his sharp ear, it takes Liu Sang a moment to parse them. But when he does, he can't stop from smiling. Wang Can eyes him warily and stabs at a piece of fish with his chopsticks. “Happy now?”

He is, actually, but more than that, he's curious. Liu Sang has known all along that Detective Zhang is very good at what he does, but he wouldn't have chosen the word 'badass' to describe it. From what he's witnessed so far, Detective Zhang seems to spend most of his time asking questions, analyzing reports, and signing off on things. It's not exactly his idea of pulse-pounding action. Although he has to admit, in retrospect, taking down the Wang guard that had wounded him with a single shot between the eyes was pretty impressive. And a little hot.

Still, despite being intimately familiar with the dangers posed by the underground tunnels, and despite all his warnings to be careful, it hadn't truly occurred to Liu Sang until this very moment that Zhang Rishan might have encountered a situation that required more heroics. He hadn't fully considered that having the access codes and a clearly marked map wouldn't be enough to keep him out of harm's way. Or that their clear escape route the last time had only been clear because Liu Sang could hear the danger in advance and guide them safely around it.

He's known all along how dangerous the Wang Family can be, but until now, it hadn't really sunk in just how low their odds of success had been. How many people who went into those tunnels, voluntarily or otherwise, never came out again. How lucky he is to have both Wang Can and Zhang Rishan sitting here with him, alive and mostly unharmed. And it finally spurs him to ask the questions he'd started to ask earlier: “Did everything go as planned? Is everyone else okay?”

Detective Zhang sets his own food aside, lacing his fingers together and leaning his forearms on the table. “The Wang Family had anticipated the possibility of a second infiltration. It's likely someone in the Beijing Bureau caught wind of Wu Xie's operation and tipped them off. In any case, they were prepared,” he says, and Liu Sang is grateful that he's speaking honestly, with no attempt to water down the truth. “But true to his word, Wu Xie and his team gave me fifteen minutes, and although there was a greatly increased Wang Family presence, I was able to safely extract Wang Can within the allotted time.”

“Don't be modest,” Wang Can interjects, talking around a mouthful of food. “I watched him personally dispatch my entire guard team of five in like a minute. Using only a knife and his bare hands, so he wouldn't make any noise. His form is even better than mine. And do you know how hard it is to actually snap someone's neck? Fucking hard! Like I said. Badass.”

Leave it to Wang Can to wax poetic about fighting techniques and carnage.

Subtly eyeing Detective Zhang's slim but muscular build, Liu Sang starts to picture what he might look like in an action-movie-esque fight sequence, but forces himself to stop abruptly when it makes him feel abnormally warm in the face.

Smiling faintly at the praise and unaware of Liu Sang's rather impure thoughts, Detective Zhang continues. “My priority after that was getting Wang Can back here for medical treatment, so I wasn't able to follow the progress of the raid as it unfolded. But I did speak to Wu Xie about an hour ago, and he assured me that his team had completed the operation with no fatalities and only minor injuries. He also wanted me to tell you that all of the women and children were rescued alive, and are currently at the hospital awaiting medical evaluations. It may take time to heal from their trauma, but all of them are expected to recover.”

Liu Sang lets out a long, relieved breath. Upon hearing the Wang Family had been warned of the raid, he'd been a little afraid that they might have tried to destroy the evidence of the worst of their crimes, and made their victims disappear. It's an immense weight off of his shoulders that those terrified people he'd heard just a couple days ago, locked up in cramped, dark rooms to await their dismal fates, would now have a chance at a real life.

“As for the Wang Family themselves,” Zhang Rishan continues, “Wu Xie is still processing all of the arrests. He expects to be able to send me a full list by the end of the day, and Wang Can has graciously agreed to look it over for any names that may be missing.”

Liu Sang almost chokes on a spoonful of broth, and then has to fight to stop coughing because the first one sends a sharp pain shooting through his side. He flashes Zhang Rishan a brief, grateful smile as a glass of water and his next scheduled dose of painkillers appear silently in front of him, swallowing both without diminishing any of his surprise. Never in a million years would he have expected Wang Can's grudging acceptance of Detective Zhang specifically to turn into a willingness to assist the police as a whole in their case against the Wang Family.

“Don't look at me like that. Those fuckers deserve what they get,” Wang Can spits derisively, as if he can read Liu Sang's mind. “Besides, any rats that slip through the net and escape will be planning their revenge. So really, I'm not doing this to help the cops, I'm doing this for us. I don't want us to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, forced to hide forever from some assholes with a vendetta. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure none of them can ever come after us again. Even if that means turning snitch.”

“Speaking to that point, it may take some time for the case to come together,” Detective Zhang says. “Simply documenting the evidence alone is likely to take days, if not weeks, not to mention capturing any fugitive Wang opearatives. For your own safety, I must insist that you stay here, inside the Xinyue Hotel, until Liu Sang has recovered enough to travel. I can not only guarantee that no harm will come to you, but as long as we're all here, I can also continue to act as a mediary between you and Wu Xie's team. Beyond that assistance, however, Beijing isn't within my jurisdiction, and I'll have no further involvement in the Wang Family case.” He glances between Liu Sang and Wang Can. “What does involve me is your case.”

A heavy weight settles somewhere deep in Liu Sang's gut. He'd gotten so caught up in his elation at first finding Wang Can alive, and then getting him back that he'd forgotten he is still technically a wanted fugitive. In the eyes of the public, and every police officer in the country save a number he can count on one hand, Liu Sang is a murderer. And even though Detective Zhang hasn't admitted as much out loud, it's probably another reason why he'll have to stay here. As long as he's here, he's technically in police custody.

“What case?” Wang Can bristles, a hint of his previous hostility returning. “I'm not dead, and Liu Sang didn't kill anyone. You don't still doubt him, do you?” His eyes narrow dangerously.

“Of course not. I know he didn't have anything to do with it, but I can't just wave my hand and make the charges disappear,” Detective Zhang replies, then pauses. Liu Sang can hear him consider and then reconsider his words half a dozen times before he finally speaks. “Wang Can, the fact that you are still alive is, of course, a key piece of evidence, and your testimony against the Wang Family will go a long way toward proving your brother's innocence. But I'm afraid it won't be enough to completely clear Liu Sang's name. The fact remains that, while it isn't yours, I still have a dead man's body in my morgue, and all the evidence indicates that Liu Sang is the person who put him there.”

He holds up his hand to stave off the explosion when Wang Can pulls in a breath to speak. “I know he isn't. But if he's going to be cleared of all charges, I need to be able to prove that someone else pulled the trigger, despite his fingerprints being found on the murder weapon. My team in Changsha and Wu Xie's team here in Beijing are working together to determine when and how the National DNA Database was compromised, and track down the location of the exact computer that made the changes. If we can prove that someone inside the Wang Family organization altered the data, we can establish their involvement, as well as their intent to purposely obscure the identity of the body and interfere with a police investigation. But again, that doesn't exonerate Liu Sang.”

Liu Sang frowns. “You were recording that Wang guard yesterday, weren't you? He practically admitted to framing me. Can't you use that?”

He can tell by the way Detective Zhang sighs and fixes him with a sympathetic smile that he's not going to like the answer. “I will, of course, submit it as evidence, and it should help. But he was intentionally vague with his wording. He said only that they 'spared your life' and 'went to great lengths' to make sure you would be sent to prison, but not what those lengths were. As far as admissions go, it is, unfortunately, not particularly compelling, legally speaking, since he never outright admitted to planting evidence. And since the man is both nameless and dead, and thus unable to testify under oath, an argument could be made by the prosecution that the recording itself is fabricated. We can't rely solely on the vague statements of a single nameless guard. What we need to focus on now is proving that the Wang Family was present in Changsha that night, and that they either planted or manufactured evidence.”

“So how do we do that?” Wang Can asks, saving Liu Sang the breath to ask it himself.

Detective Zhang takes another minute to compose his thoughts, proving just how complex a matter this case really is. “Before I left Changsha, I instructed my deputy to carefully—and clandestinely—review all of our documented evidence for any inconsistencies, signs of tampering, or indications of the Wang Family's involvement. But without knowing the full story of what actually happened that night,” he lets the words hang a moment as he gives Liu Sang a look, “we weren't entirely sure what we were looking for, or where to start.” His expression softens by a fraction. “Even before you admitted it at the train station, I knew you weren't being honest with me, and that your memory of what happened was better than you were letting on. So I'll ask you again, and if you're willing, I'd like to hear what you do remember.”

Wang Can scoffs. “Yeah, I'd like to hear it, too,” he says. “I got jumped leaving the toilet. Bastards hit me from behind and knocked me out. The next thing I knew, I was chained up in the back of some van or something and we were halfway back to Beijing. So I really don't know anything about that night, except what they told me. Which I kind of think was bullshit. But at least the guy who said they'd killed you for meddling got a broken nose for his trouble.” A somewhat feral grin spreads across his face at the 'fond' memory.

And although Liu Sang doesn't exactly condone his brother's propensity to deal with his problems by hitting them, even he can't fight the swell of pride—and schadenfreude—that wells up in his chest knowing that Wang Can did everything in his power to keep fighting his former 'family' even as their captive. If he's not mistaken—and he almost never is—Zhang Rishan is just as pleased about it, although he's hiding it well.

“Before you woke up, I asked your brother for a statement about his own memory—or lack thereof—of what had happened that night,” Detective Zhang adds. “I had hoped you two would be able to independently corroborate each others' version of events leading up to the murder, strengthening the argument that neither of you were involved, and the Wangs were the true perpetrators of the crime. Unfortunately, Wang Can isn't able to do that. But his testimony has served to reveal one significant inconsistency in the narrative the Wang Family provided.”

When he pauses, there's almost a challenge in his tone, as if he wants to see whether Liu Sang can figure it out on his own. And he doesn't intend to disappoint. “If Wang Can was knocked unconscious in the bar, then he couldn't have been walking down by the river, arguing with anyone, least of all 'me', just before being shot,” he says, recalling what Detective Zhang had told him in his kitchen some days ago with dawning realization.

Being intuitive enough to rise to the occasion and come to the correct conclusion is, apparently, an incredibly attractive trait in Zhang Rishan's eyes. There's a slight uptick in his pulse, and a subtle catch in his breath, and if that wasn't a big enough hint on its own, then the absurdly toothy—and absurdly adorable—baby bunny smile on Zhang Rishan's face is a dead giveaway. Liu Sang doesn't think he's ever seen the man grin like that before, and it sends a tendril of warm gratification swirling through his gut at the knowledge that he's the cause of it.

“Indeed,” he confirms, an undercurrent of delighted satisfaction in his tone. “And now that we've uncovered one such flaw, I'm willing to bet there are more. So I'd like you to tell me everything you can remember, every detail, even if it doesn't seem significant. The more holes we can poke into the Wang Family's story, the better.” He takes out his phone and once again starts an audio recording, prefacing Liu Sang's statement with his name, badge number, case number, date, and time.

Liu Sang eyes the device as Detective Zhang sets it down on the table between them. Although he's still wary about having everything he says recorded and sent off to the police, Liu Sang's trust in Zhang Rishan ultimately wins out. He's picked through his own memories of that night a hundred times already, sorting out what actually happened—like being drugged in the bar, being helped into a waiting car, being driven around the city, and hearing gunshots—from what was drug-induced embellishment—like the giant mosquitoes and his impression that he'd gone to some kind of lantern festival—so it's not hard for him to provide a relatively cohesive timeline of events. The gaps he can't fill in are no less frustrating now than they were almost a week ago, when he was trying to track down Wang Can's whereabouts, but when he's finished, Detective Zhang stops the recording and calmly reassures him that what Liu Sang does remember is enough to get them started.

Wang Can, on the other hand, is seething with barely controlled fury, on his feet and pacing the kitchen like he's looking for a problem to hit. “Those fucking bastards,” he snarls once he's sure his voice won't get caught on tape. “They're lucky they knocked me out in one blow. If I'd been able to fight back, I'd have put them all in the ground. And if I ever find out who, specifically, dragged you into this, ge, I'll make them disappear, even if I have to break into a prison to do it.”

Liu Sang can tell it's not an idle threat. So can Detective Zhang.

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that,” he says under his breath as he saves the audio file and sends it off in a message, presumably to his deputy in Changsha.

Barely ten seconds later, his phone buzzes with an incoming call, and he answers it without so much as a glance at the Caller ID.

“That was fast,” Detective Zhang says before the person on the other end can speak. “Did you even read my message?”

“No,” the voice on the other end replies with a dry sarcasm. Liu Sang instantly identifies it as Officer Luo's.

“Insubordinate,” Detective Zhang mutters when it becomes clear Officer Luo isn't going to elaborate. “Then why are you calling me? Do you just like making me repeat myself?”

“It is amusing,” Officer Luo replies, said amusement evident in his voice. “But no. I'm calling you because we found something.” He pauses, as if listening. “Is this a good time? Are you somewhere secure?”

Unsure of how to answer that, Detective Zhang glances between Liu Sang and Wang Can, seemingly torn. As if he can't decide whether he should follow protocol and exclude them from revelations about the ongoing case, or let them in because of the true nature of their involvement. “I—” he starts, but whatever he's going to say is interrupted by an impatient huff from Wang Can.

“Just say what you have to say,” he snaps. “Unless you want to go for a nice long walk, Liu Sang is going to hear it anyway. You might as well be upfront about it.”

There's a pregnant pause from the other end of the line, and then, “Is that...?”

Detective Zhang sighs, then caves. “Luo Que, meet the real Wang Can,” he says, putting his phone on speaker and setting it down on the table. “Alive and well. More or less, no thanks to the Wang Family.”

“Huh,” Luo Que says. “I have to admit, when you told me you were running with this conspiracy theory of yours all the way to Beijing, I kind of thought you'd lost it. But your brother explained everything when he handed over the case and told me what was really going on. And then when I saw it for myself... I guess I owe Liu Sang an apology...I take it he's there too?”

“He is,” Detective Zhang confirms. “And Wang Can is right. Liu Sang's exceptionally sharp hearing is what ultimately brought the Wang Family down. He'll be able to hear what you say no matter where I go to talk to you. So you might as well just tell us what you've found.”

“Right,” Luo Que replies, still sounding a little dubious, but unwilling to waste time arguing with Detective Zhang. “I did what you asked, and went over everything we had a second time. But the Wang Family is meticulous. I couldn't find anything wrong with the physical evidence. The fingerprint is in the proper place on the stock, Liu Sang's phone is cracked in a manner consistent with a drop...even the crime scene makes logical sense- the trajectory of the blood spatter, the drag marks, the footprints, even the placement of the phone and the murder weapon all check out. As if someone actually committed the murder on site, instead of, say, hauling in a body from a secondary location and then staging the scene.”

“They probably did,” Wang Can mutters. “The Wang Family isn't above carrying out executions if someone in the organization has outlived their usefulness. This would have been a chance for them to solve two problems at once. Did you ever figure out who they offed in my place? I can tell you for sure, if you show me his tattoo.”

Luo Que starts to say 'no', but Detective Zhang speaks over him. “According to Wu Xie, his name was Wang Cen.”

Wang Can blinks once, and then bursts into cackling laughter. “Wang Cen! That pretentious ass,” he says between peals, “he thought he was hot shit. Did whatever the fuck he wanted, including skipping out on guard duty to hook up with his girlfriend on the night I took off. I really should thank him for that. Couldn't have done it without him. But I guess he found out the hard way he wasn't as untouchable as he thought he was. Shit, say what you want about the Wang Family, they have an impeccable sense of poetic justice.”

He's still wiping tears of mirth from his eyes when Luo Que awkwardly moves on in a way that silently says 'We're really just not even going to talk about how messed up that is?'. “Anyway,” he says aloud, “we've been crawling through the security camera footage again, but hitting a similar roadblock. It all checks out in terms of consistency.”

Running an anxious hand through his hair, Detective Zhang leans forward in his chair. “I thought you said you found something.”

“Yeah, I did. I'm getting to that, boss, let me finish.” Liu Sang picks up the faint sound of a lollipop clicking against his teeth as he shifts it from one side of his mouth to the other. “As you know, during our investigation, our attention has been primarily on the bar and the murder scene. We have some footage from the cameras along the path between those two locations that provide us our timeline, but there's not much to see on them, save our alleged actors walking between point A and point B and arguing with each other. But we were too focused on the events leading up to the murder that we neglected the ones after. After the person who looks like Liu Sang runs away from the crime scene, we didn't continue tracking his movements, we just assumed he had gone straight home.

“I think the Wangs were counting on us making that assumption, because they weren't as thorough with their misdirection. I had the team search through feeds along the most likely routes between the murder scene and Liu Sang's apartment in the time immediately after to see if I could catch the same figure running—or walking—back...and we found no trace of that person. It's as if they just disappeared after committing the murder. But I did start to notice a vehicle appearing on multiple feeds along the same path. I was able to track it all the way to Liu Sang's street, and while there are no cameras with a direct line of sight to his front door, this car did stop for several minutes before driving off again.”

The three of them suck in an identical sharp breath, and exchange a look.

“Liu Sang just testified to being drugged inside the bar and then guided outside into a waiting car,” Detective Zhang explains when Luo Que questions their reaction. “He was taken to a few different locations, never leaving the back seat, until he was presumably returned to his apartment once the Wang's set-up was complete.”

There's a pause, and then the soft clicking sound of someone typing on an on-screen keyboard, followed by the 'ding' of a sent message. Detective Zhang's phone pings in response a second later.

“I've sent you a few still images of the car that we pulled off the cameras. See what you can make of them. And I'll go back to our bar and murder scene feeds to see if I can spot the car in them, too. I hadn't been paying attention to vehicles before, since we had determined our actors were... Hang on,” Luo Que cuts off. “Did you say Liu Sang was taken directly from the bar to a waiting car by the Wang Family? Then how do we have footage of him and Wang Can leaving together on foot?”

Zhang Rishan gives his phone a flat look and huffs a breathy laugh. “This is why you need to actually read my messages when I send them to you, instead of ignoring me,” he points out. “But since I have you on the line... Wang Can and Liu Sang's testimony of what happened reveals a few such discrepancies. I had initially thought that the Wangs had gone low tech, either exploiting the path Liu Sang and Wang Can had already been taking to intervene and make their move, or simply using stand-ins dressed in similar clothes to act drunk, shout at each other, and walk a path between the bar and the murder scene, intentionally getting caught on camera along the way.

“We now know that both of them were targeted and assaulted inside the bar, and extracted involuntarily in the company of the Wang Family. Yet we saw no evidence of any of that on the security cameras. Even using doubles, the Wangs wouldn't have been able remove two unconscious—or semi-conscious—people from the area without being noticed by someone. Which makes me think their methods are a little more sophisticated. So I'd like Zhai Xingyao to review our footage for evidence of tampering, doctoring, or editing.”

There's another brief pause, and Liu Sang can hear the faint clicking of keys on a traditional keyboard this time.

“Do you want me to give him everything? Because...that's a lot, and it might take a while,” Luo Que says.

Detective Zhang takes a moment to consider, tapping his finger absently on the table top. “Send him the bar footage first, since that's the most likely to have been altered in some way. Depending on what he finds, we can go from there.”

Luo Que hums an acknowledgment, and the clicking resumes for a few more seconds before his chair creaks like he's leaned back in it. “Done. I'll be in touch when I have results. And,” he says, as if he, too, can hear Detective Zhang's intake of breath, “I'll read your damn message.”

Chuckling softly in a way that belies his fondness, Detective Zhang's finger hovers over the button to end the call. “Thank you, Luo Que. I owe you for everything you've done in my absence.”

“Yeah, you do. But speaking of that. When are you coming back? It's a lot easier to keep you in the loop when you're actually in the loop, you know.”

Zhang Rishan's eyes briefly flicker over to Liu Sang, too fast to read what's in them before his gaze falls away again. But when he speaks, there are clear signs of reluctance. Well, clear to him, in any case, though Zhang Rishan masks them well. “I'm not sure yet,” he says. “Until we can prove Liu Sang's innocence, he is still technically a suspect in custody. He's not cleared for travel because of his injury, so I can't escort him back to Changsha, and I'm not willing to hand him over to Beijing. Not only is he innocent and undeserving of spending a single moment in a cell, it wouldn't be safe for him. Not when so many of the Wang Family have just been arrested and put in those very same prisons.”

Apart from Wang Can, no one has ever been so dedicated to keeping Liu Sang safe before. And maybe it's just because he's wounded, exhausted, and vulnerable, but the rush of emotion that surges through him because of it is overwhelming enough to bring tears to his eyes. Blinking back the sting in an effort to keep them from falling, he turns his head away from Zhang Rishan. Only to lock eyes with Wang Can instead, who is giving him a very odd and somewhat concerned look. Liu Sang can almost see the gears in his head turning as his gaze flicks back and forth between Liu Sang and Zhang Rishan, and while he isn't positive of the conclusion Wang Can comes to, he can take a fair guess.

“If you can find me something that will completely clear Liu Sang's name and eliminate him as a suspect, then I'll come back to review it in person, and present the evidence to Fo-ye myself,” Detective Zhang continues, oblivious to the silent conversation taking place around him.

“Fair enough,” Luo Que replies. “Oh. One more thing that might make a difference. Our 'witness' is in the wind. Turns out the name and address he gave us were both fake. Unfortunately we never got a photo of him, so it'll probably be impossible to verify whether or not he's also a Wang. But I'll keep an eye on the mug shots coming out of Wu Xie's case to see if we can get lucky. Anyway, I'll be in touch.”

He ends the call from his side before any of them have a chance to respond, leaving the kitchen momentarily silent, until Detective Zhang unlocks his phone to pull up the photos Luo Que had sent of the car.

“That's definitely one of theirs,” Wang Can says, leaning over Zhang Rishan's shoulder so he can see it. “But how can we prove it? If I understand your procedural bullshit, my confirmation doesn't mean jack.”

“You're right,” Detective Zhang says, his tone landing somewhere in between delight that Wang Can has learned something, and affront that his profession is still, apparently, unacceptable in his eyes. “But mine might.” He swipes back to his phone's camera roll and scrolls through his recent photos until he finds what he's looking for- a series of photos of license plates from the Wang Family fleet, taken just yesterday inside the parking structure. The fourth one in is a perfect match.

Attaching both photos, he sends off one message to Luo Que and another one to Wu Xie, asking him to bring in a forensics team to search that specific car for evidence that Liu Sang, Wang Can, or both had been transported in it. And thankfully he agrees, even though it's not his case, and he has days worth of additional evidence logging to do.

“What do we do now?” Liu Sang asks when they've finished their conversation.

Zhang Rishan pockets his phone and fixes him with a soft but unyielding smile. “Now, you go back to bed and rest,” he says, and behind him, Wang Can nods his agreement. “And we wait for Luo Que's news.”

For the first time since Detective Zhang brought up the case against Liu Sang, his voice is tinted with a faintly optimistic hope.

Chapter Text

Even though Zhang Rishan had said they were waiting, the days that follow Luo Que's call are filled with activity and anticipation. Wu Xie and his team are in and out fairly frequently to consult with Wang Can on their case against the Wang Family. Having that kind of insider information is a godsend to their efficiency, and despite Wang Can's continued mistrust of the police, he is all too willing to gleefully tell Wu Xie anything he wants to know, as long as it will ultimately aid in the downfall of the entire clan. And though Wang Pangzi finds Wang Can's intel suspicious at first, too, when he's asked about the veracity of his information and his motivations for turning on his former 'family', Wang Can says simply, “They shouldn't have gone after my brother.” No one ever questions him again.

Four days after Luo Que's call, Wang Pangzi stops by again with the forensics report from the car, grinning as he melodramatically pantomimes the moment when they'd lifted a long, auburn-tinted hair from a crevice in the back seat. DNA testing had confirmed it as Liu Sang's. Honestly, he's not sure whether Pangzi's mirth is from being able to provide concrete evidence and assist in yet another case against the Wang Family, or because he's just getting a kick out of picturing Liu Sang tripping balls in the back seat of the car. But the result is that Detective Zhang is another step closer to clearing his name, so Liu Sang is willing to allow Pangzi his amusement at his imagined misfortune with only a few subtle jabs in response. Besides, he has more than made up for his initial mistrust and hostility. Most of the snacks sitting within easy reach of Liu Sang's bed are courtesy of Pangzi, a wordless apology spoken in the language he knows best.

On the fifth day, they're given more good news. Wu Xie's resident tech consultant, Xie Yuchen, had identified the computer that had infiltrated the National DNA Database. Even better, he'd been able to pull the change logs, confirming the Wang Family had exchanged Wang Can's records for Wang Cen's and deliberately misled the investigation in Changsha. The computer itself had been found inside a locked room on the topmost floor of the Wang building, along with a few other consoles, each of which had illegal access to several national data centers and record banks. The implications had sent shockwaves through governments at every level, making national news in the process.

And early the following morning, when the sun has barely cleared the horizon, Zhang Rishan's phone rings with the most important update of all, waking everyone along with it when he answers the call.

“We've got them,” Luo Que says, sounding entirely too enthusiastic for both the time of day and his usual stoic demeanor. Alone in the bedroom, Liu Sang is instantly awake, wincing as he sits up too fast in his haste to listen in.

At a much more sluggish pace, two distinct heartbeats begin to stir in the sitting room, the wooden furniture and floorboards groaning and creaking along with them. “Why do you sound like Kan Jian? Have you even slept?” Zhang Rishan grumbles groggily from his makeshift bed on the sofa, where he's been sleeping for the last few nights, ignoring all protests and insisting that Liu Sang keep the bed for himself. “What time is it?”

“Too goddamn early,” comes Wang Can's irritable reply from his sleeping bag on the floor. Liu Sang had protested that, too, claiming the bed was spacious enough for both of them, and there was no reason for his brother to sleep on the floor when he was also recovering. But Wang Can had refused to share, or even sleep on the floor in the bedroom, citing his unwillingness to disturb Liu Sang's sleep with his own frequent nightmares, and he'd ultimately been forced to give up arguing. He apparently feels no such reservations about disturbing Detective Zhang's sleep, but draws the line at having his own interrupted.

Ignoring Zhang Rishan's questions and both mens' apparent disgruntlement at being woken up so early, Luo Que presses on. “Zhai Xingyao confirmed that the footage in the bar was a sophisticated deep fake,” he says. “Not only that, he was able to recover the original footage from the bar's cloud-based backup system. We have a crystal clear view of a two-man team knocking Wang Can out in the back hallway near the restrooms, and of a woman coming up behind Liu Sang and injecting him with something—presumably a sedative. By the way he was acting on tape, though, it seems like he'd already been drugged once with something in his drink by the time that happens.”

Liu Sang's brows knit together as he recalls his strange 'dream'. Luo Que's words make sense. Sounds were already muted and the room had started spinning around him when he felt the sharp prick in the back of his neck. A hypodermic needle full of sedative is a much more rational explanation than giant mosquitoes. He's guessing the buzzing was unrelated, probably due to their electronic interference.

“I think you need to see this for yourself, boss. But it aligns almost perfectly with what Liu Sang said he remembers from that night. Up to and including both him and Wang Can being put into a car parked behind the bar—the same car we identified in the footage from outside his apartment. We've got a few more loose ends to wrap up. We're still looking into the presence of a second vehicle, since Wang Can said he was transported back to Beijing in a van. Zhai Xingyao is going over the footage from the murder scene as we speak to see if he can recover evidence of a transfer point, and I'm headed back to the bar to see if I can get IDs on any of the people who were there that night. There was one guy who approached Liu Sang and seemed to say something to him as he was being escorted out by the Wang agent, so I'd like to get a statement if I can find him.”

“Even if you can't,” Zhang Rishan says, sounding much more awake now, as his tone is infused with exuberance, “what you've uncovered should be enough to prove that Liu Sang was targeted by the Wang Family, and that he was in no condition to walk anywhere, much less fire a weapon with any degree of accuracy. Good work, Luo Que!” There's some soft rustling of fabric, and the squeak of well-conditioned wood and upholstery as Zhang Rishan rises to his feet.

“When can I expect to see you, and should I pick you up at the airport or the station?” Luo Que asks.

“I'll look at my options as soon as we're done and let you know. Definitely sometime today,” Zhang Rishan says, and despite his own happiness that he'll no longer be a wanted fugitive, Liu Sang feels his heart sink.

Doctor Mo has been here every day to dress his wound and check on his progress, which has been improving daily, but she's still adamant that he not be on his feet for too long, or do any strenuous or stressful activity. Given the way airports and train stations both turn his stomach, he doubts she'll let him set foot in one. Not when there's a very good chance that he'll throw up somewhere along the way and rip open his stitches. And that's not even considering the average rigors of traveling long distances in cramped quarters. So going back to Changsha today with Zhang Rishan probably isn't going to happen.

Maybe it's a ridiculous thing for him to be upset about. It's not like he'll never see Zhang Rishan again if he leaves now. And it's not like he didn't know from the start that they would both go back to their own separate lives once this case was all over. He's just not ready for it to happen so suddenly. Truth be told, though it hasn't even been a full two weeks since all of this started, he's already grown accustomed to having Zhang Rishan's pulse around. It's become a constant, grounding presence that somehow insinuated itself into his daily life when he wasn't paying attention. And a small part of him, the part that indulges in wishful thinking, had hoped they could all stay here forever in this tiny little post-traumatic bubble of safety, detached from the real world and all the problems that still exist outside the walls of the Xinyue Hotel.

Because it's become undeniably clear to him over these last few days that, in spite of his rational mind telling him it's a terrible idea to fall for a cop, Liu Sang has developed feelings for Zhang Rishan, and he's a little bit afraid that they can only survive here, in this context. It's not that they're one-sided; it's become equally clear to him that this attraction is reciprocated, although neither one of them has acted on it. But he's afraid that it's just a response to the circumstances they've found themselves in. That being thrust into this life-or-death situation has caused them to reach out and latch on to the nearest source of comfort, which just happens to be each other. And that time and distance and relative safety will reveal the truth- that there's nothing between them after all, and despite what they've gone through together, they'll end up drifting apart until they revert to being strangers to each other.

He's not sure he wants to go back to his life before, his life without Zhang Rishan in it.

Liu Sang is so lost in thought that it actually startles him when Zhang Rishan knocks lightly on the bedroom door. He hadn't heard him end the call, or walk across the expansive suite, which isn't like him at all. Quickly running his fingers through his hair to make sure it's not sticking up in any embarrassing ways, he calls a quiet, “Come in.”

“I take it you've heard the news,” Zhang Rishan says as he crosses the room to perch halfway on the edge of the bed.

“I heard,” Liu Sang confirms, forcing a smile onto his face. He's supposed to be thrilled that he'll soon be absolved of all guilt, not feeling like he just watched someone kick a puppy because he knows what's coming.

“I need to go back to Changsha to finish up the case. The sooner, the better,” he continues, and his deliberate gentleness only serves to break Liu Sang's heart all the more. “I know Doctor Mo hasn't cleared you for travel yet, so I can't take you and Wang Can back with me. But with this new evidence, your innocence has been wholly proven, and there's no longer any reason to keep you under strict police supervision. So while the two of you are welcome to continue to stay here free of charge while you recover, I can no longer insist on it.” He gives Liu Sang a thin smile that says he's equally torn about walking away. “Your life is your own again, and you and your brother are free to make your own decisions.”

For a moment, Liu Sang has the distinct impression that he wants to say something else, but the silence stretches on between them until it nears the point of awkwardness, spurring Liu Sang to fill it, lest he seem ungrateful for Detective Zhang's efforts. “Thank you for everything you've done for Wang Can and me,” he says, finding himself unable to meet Zhang Rishan's eye, too afraid he'll reveal something he shouldn't just before saying goodbye. “My brother and I both owe you our lives, many times over. I don't think I'll ever be able to fully repay that debt.”

The response he gets to his heartfelt thanks is...unexpected. He hears Zhang Rishan exhale a soft, breathy laugh, and the mattress springs squeak as he nervously shifts his weight a little. “Let me buy you dinner when you get back to Changsha,” he says, “and we'll call it even.”

Liu Sang's eyes snap up to his face, searching his eyes for the joke. Or maybe he simply misheard, even though he's never misheard anything in his entire life. How can agreeing to one dinner possibly come close to squaring his debt? He has to have missed something. “What?” he finally asks, just as thrown by the proposition as he had been when Detective Zhang asked him about gun ownership.

If he's not mistaken, Zhang Rishan actually blushes as he bashfully ducks his own head. “I—”

“He's asking you out, stupid!” Wang Can's voice comes filtering in through the crack in the door as he starts a pot of tea and rummages around in the refrigerator looking for something to eat for breakfast. “It's about damn time, too. God, I can't believe it took this fucking long. You've been making goo-goo eyes at each other all week when you thought no one was looking. It's disgusting. Please just say yes and spare me any more of this mutual pining bullshit.” Plate in hand, Wang Can shoulders the door open without knocking and pops his head in. “Now that I have permission to go wherever I want without a babysitter, do you want me to be somewhere else for a while so you can sleep with him before he leaves?”

“What? No! I mean I—” Liu Sang squeaks, his voice embarrassingly shrill to his own ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Zhang Rishan stiffen, his spine going almost impossibly straight as he stares into the middle distance in wide-eyed shock. Now he's the one blushing furiously, futilely attempting to hide both it and himself under the thick brocade duvet and praying the ground will open up and swallow him whole. “It's not— We're not— I don't— Get out, didi!” he whines, wishing he could throw something at him without hurting himself.

“Oh right, sorry,” Wang Can says, not sounding sorry in the slightest, and not making any move to do as he's told. “The doc says you can't do anything strenuous. So I guess getting laid right now is out. But you know. For future reference. If you're going to hook up with a cop at some point, it better be this one. He's the only one good enough for you.”

Liu Sang doesn't know how to describe the soft sound that comes from somewhere deep in Zhang Rishan's chest. Because buried far beneath the layers of confusion, embarrassment, amusement, and bemused affection, there's a faint flicker of immense satisfaction that he's been deemed worthy, despite his 'offensive' profession. And that's almost enough to make up for the utterly mortifying way Wang Can had chosen to bestow his approval.

Almost.

“Wang Can if you don't stop talking right now, I'm going to commit the crime I was accused of,” Liu Sang says, though the threat loses some of its effectiveness, muffled as it is by a thick layer of blanket. Worse still, he can hear his brother's gremlin-like grin as he grabs something off his plate with his fingers and tosses it into his mouth. He probably hasn't had this much fun in months. Maybe years.

“You can try,” he retorts. “But I've still got the g—” Wang Can cuts himself off abruptly, snapping his mouth shut and swallowing his last word back down before it can come all the way out. Clearly he knows better than to admit he's still in possession of an illegal firearm in front of a cop, no matter how acceptable said cop may be. “I've still got the good sense to butt out and let you two finish flirting,” he amends, backing away and pulling the door all the way closed in his wake.

Only when he's sure Wang Can has taken himself and his plate out of earshot does Liu Sang heave a sigh and peek his head out from his impromptu blanket fort. And when he does, he finds Detective Zhang flatly staring at him, one brow raised as he awaits an explanation. “Uh...he was joking?” he tries lamely, but it doesn't sound convincing in the slightest, and somehow Zhang Rishan's expression flattens even further.

“What I should do is confiscate that weapon now that I know he still has it,” he grumbles. “Not doing that could get me in a world of trouble, especially if I lie for you and feign ignorance.” He pauses, considering. “On the other hand, as long as there are Wang operatives walking free, you have a target on your back. It would be irresponsible of me to leave you without an effective means of protecting yourselves.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Liu Sang says, picking up on Zhang Rishan's indecisiveness, “no one but us can do much harm with it. It's almost impossible for a random person to pick it up and hit what they're aiming at.” All that gets him is a blank look of incomprehension. “Weren't you curious to know why that Wang guard missed in spite of his extensive training? It's because Wang Can purposely altered the sights. If you try to use them to aim, you'll miss every time, unless you know to compensate for the difference. Which both of us do, of course. But no one else does.”

Zhang Rishan gapes at him, then shakes his head and briefly lifts his eyes to the ceiling, his duty warring with his conscience, but on this matter, he never did have much resolve. “Do not ever tell anyone that I allowed you to keep it. And for the love of god, stop admitting to illegal activity in my presence,” he says, sounding exceptionally long-suffering and world-weary as he scrubs his hands over his face. “I have to go back to the Bureau and plead a case for leniency, so that you might avoid being charged with lesser crimes—like, for example, evading capture, breaking and entering, and obstruction of justice—on account of your assistance in bringing down the Wang Family. Please don't make my job harder.”

“Then it's probably best if you never ask me exactly what I do for work,” Liu Sang mutters, mostly to himself.

“Liu Sang,” he starts in a warning tone, dubiously narrowing his eyes. But he can't sustain it. Unable to feign irritation any longer, Zhang Rishan lets his expression soften. “In spite of the trouble you've caused in the name of the greater good, and your legally ambiguous profession, I meant what I said. I'd like to see you again when you return to Changsha. I'd just prefer that it not happen with a police escort, yes?”

Feeling chagrined, Liu Sang nods. “I'd like that too,” he says, then quickly clarifies, “seeing you again, I mean. Not the getting arrested part. And I'm sorry about my brother. He's never had a filter.”

Zhang Rishan huffs a quiet laugh. “So I've noticed. You two may be identical twins, but I'm guessing you're not often mistaken for each other.”

Shaking his head, Liu Sang finally reemerges fully from under the blanket, letting it settle around his shoulders instead. “Never,” he confirms. “But I can't blame him for being the way that he is. The Wang Family demanded aggression and toughness. Anyone who couldn't cut it ended up dead. Wang Can was never taught how to be subtle. Or how to speak with any delicacy. Or how to keep his thoughts to himself, or how to not embarrass his brother in front of...” Liu Sang catches himself before he can say something too forward, because he has been taught nothing but how to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself.

“In front of...?”

Fuck. He should have known better. Leave it to a police detective to press him for answers.

In an attempt to avoid the question altogether, Liu Sang begins to slowly draw the blanket back up over his head, hoping he can make another clean getaway, but Zhang Rishan reaches out and loosely grabs his hand, effectively halting his retreat.

“What did I just say about evading the police?” he teases, lightly caressing the back of Liu Sang's hand with his thumb.

The foreignness of Zhang Rishan's gentle touch makes him shudder, but he doesn't pull away. He's never really had the kind of relationship in which casual contact is a regular feature. He's never really been sure he even wants that kind of thing. But as the warmth of Zhang Rishan's hand seeps into his skin, he's reminded of how nice it had felt to wake up with someone's hand holding his, with someone next to him, watching over him and keeping him safe from danger. Now that he's had a taste of it, he finds he doesn't want to give it up. In fact, he wants more. And maybe his feelings will fade once they part ways, but they're here now, and that's all that matters.

Emboldened, Liu Sang lifts his gaze from their joined hands to Zhang Rishan's face, meeting his eye without looking away. “In front of...the person I like,” he finishes, and gets the satisfaction of hearing Zhang Rishan's pulse skip a beat, and then speed up considerably. His own pulse matches its pace, keeping perfect time as his gaze drifts down to Zhang Rishan's lips, giving him what he hopes is an obvious hint.

His detective doesn't disappoint him. Slowly, as if giving Liu Sang a chance to object, Zhang Rishan's other hand raises to settle on his cheek, framing the side of his face as he leans in and presses a soft, chaste kiss against his lips. It lasts only a few seconds before Zhang Rishan pulls away, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but it's enough to leave Liu Sang breathless, with butterflies fluttering in his stomach. The tip of his tongue darts out to wet his lips and chase the faint hints of Zhang Rishan's taste left lingering there.

Still hovering close enough to share the same breath, Zhang Rishan catches and holds his gaze. “So...does this mean you'll go out with me?” he murmurs, his words wrapped in a few faint threads of doubt, as if Liu Sang might still refuse after that.

Unable to fight a smile, he nuzzles into the hand still resting against his face and nods. “I'll go out with you,” he agrees, leaning back in to close the distance between them, intending to seal his promise with another kiss, when—

“What's taking you so long? You're not disobeying Doctor Mo's orders, are you? Hand stuff still counts as strenuous, Liu Sang. Keep them to yourself!”

Liu Sang squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to think about fratricide. He'd just agreed to try and avoid committing any more blatant crimes, after all.

Chuckling softly, Zhang Rishan sighs and presses their foreheads together instead. “Your brother doesn't have the same sharp ear that you have, does he?” he asks, only partly joking, his warm breath fanning lightly across Liu Sang's face. “His sense of timing is almost as impeccable as yours.”

“No,” he replies with a long-suffering sigh of his own. “He's just annoying.”

“He's your brother. Being annoying is in the job description.” The warm sentiment in his tone is enough to prove that Zhang Rishan speaks from experience. Luo Que had mentioned a brother, Liu Sang recalls, and he vaguely wonders what he's like. Maybe someday, if this thing between them goes anywhere, Liu Sang will have a chance to meet him. “But—”

Whatever else Zhang Rishan wants to say is interrupted by his phone chiming with an incoming message. Running his thumb across Liu Sang's cheekbone one last time, he reluctantly pulls his hands away to check it. “Speaking of annoying brothers with impeccable timing,” he mumbles under his breath, unlocking his phone to read the message. When he's finished, Zhang Rishan heaves a breath, and gives Liu Sang a small, sad smile. “I need to go. He's got me booked on a flight back to Changsha in two hours, and I want to check in with Wu Xie before I leave.”

Since he can't stop the inevitable, Liu Sang puts on a brave face. “The sooner you go back, the faster you can clear my name, right?” he points out, trying to find the silver lining. “As long as I don't do anything stupid, I should be able to travel in a few more days. I want you to have it all wrapped up by the time I get back, so you can take me out to dinner like you promised. Got it?”

Trying to hide a smile of his own, Zhang Rishan gets to his feet and salutes him. Honestly, Liu Sang shouldn't find that as attractive as he does, considering he has bedhead and is still in his pyjamas. “Yes, sir,” he says, then reaches out a hand to smooth over the crown of Liu Sang's head. “I'll keep you updated on the case's progress. And when you're cleared to come home, call me. I'll be waiting for you.”

Liu Sang leans into the touch, suddenly understanding what cats get out of it. A rush of warmth spreads through his chest, tingling all the way out into his fingertips. The circumstances that brought them together may have been unconventional, and less than ideal in many ways, but looking up at Zhang Rishan now, he sees a partner, a friend, instead of an adversary. He sees someone willing to trust him, to walk beside him, to go to great lengths to protect him, regardless of the cost to himself. He sees the possibility of a future together in Zhang Rishan's eyes, and that makes Liu Sang feel like it was all worth it. And so he responds the only way he can.

“I believe you.”