Zhou Zhengping stared at his phone screen. That string of encrypted information was like a piece of charred charcoal, scorching his fingertips until they went numb. He rotated the enamel teacup in his hand; the sound of its base grinding against the old wooden tabletop was dry and grating. "Re-examine the scene?" he said to the empty air, his voice hoarse. "You're insane." Outside the window, the sky was a pale gray. The morning mist had yet to fully dissipate. The old residential compound he lived in was as quiet as a deep well, with only the occasional crackle of oil from a distant breakfast stall. Ten years. He had thought that fire had long been buried under fresh coats of paint and rubber flooring. Now, with just one message from Lu Chenzhou, all the ashes had been stirred up again. He took a gulp of the overnight tea. It was cold, with a taste of rust. His phone vibrated again. This time, it was a photo: the brightly colored rubber flooring of the community activity center, garishly eye-catching. In the corner of the photo, a scorched, blackened gable wall stood like a vicious scar, deliberately preserved, with a sign reading "Fire Safety Education Display" erected beside it. Zhou Zhengping's breath hitched for a moment. He remembered that wall. After the fire was extinguished back then, he had stood before that wall. The bricks and stones, still radiating residual warmth from the intense heat, felt like the corpse of a giant beast. The smell of smoke had seeped into his nostrils, impossible to wash away for three days. The teacup spun faster in his hand. "I need an experienced criminal investigator familiar with the old crime scene," Lu Chenzhou's message was brief, his wording precise as a scalpel. "To analyze the spatial behavior patterns of the perpetrator and assist with the current case." Zhou Zhengping let out a cold laugh. Assist with the current case? Pull the other one. He knew what Lu Chenzhou was investigating—that fire that had killed three archive clerks, burned down half of the annex building, and also incinerated his own career. November 3rd, 1987. A date etched into his marrow. He should refuse. He should have let it all rot in his gut long ago, growing old and dying in this shabby room with his guilt and fear. But his finger hovered over the screen, unable to press down. Lu Chenzhou sent another message: "Nine o'clock, the backyard of the activity center. I've secured a two-hour inspection window in my capacity as a special consultant for the Municipal Bureau." It was followed by an address and a single sentence: "Teacher, some fires have never truly gone out." Zhou Zhengping closed his eyes. He heard his own heart hammering against his ribcage, once, then again. It was the same suffocating, oxygen-deprived thud he'd heard back when he was trapped in the thick smoke. *** The community activity center was filled with a sweet, cloying chemical smell. The newly laid, brightly colored rubber flooring reflected a greasy sheen in the morning light, feeling soft and spongy underfoot, absorbing sound. The slide and swings in the children's play area were painted in bright yellow and sky blue, standing empty, not yet open for the day. Lu Chenzhou stood at the entrance to the backyard, looking at the scorched wall. The wall was over three meters high, its edges jagged and uneven, as if gnawed by a giant beast. The surface of the bricks and stones was covered in a glazed, char-black layer—traces of melting and solidification under extreme heat. A low fence encircled the area in front of the wall, with a warning sign hanging on it: "Historical Fire Site, Do Not Touch." The air here felt stagnant. The sweet plastic smell receded, replaced by a stale, musty odor of dust that had been baked for years. Lu Chenzhou took a deep breath, a slight twitch flickering at the corner of his left eye. Footsteps approached from behind—slow, dragging, heavy. Zhou Zhengping had arrived. He wore a faded, washed-out jacket, clutching that old enamel cup in his hand, his knuckles white. He didn't look at Lu Chenzhou; his gaze was fixed directly on the scorched wall as if pulled by a magnet. "Teacher," Lu Chenzhou offered him a bottle of water. Zhou Zhengping didn't take it. His Adam's apple bobbed, his voice like sandpaper grinding: "...This is the place." "The statements said the fire started first in the connecting passageway between the main building and the annex," Lu Chenzhou's voice was calm as he pointed to the left of the scorched wall—where a newly built white wall now stood, A middle-aged man in gray work clothes emerged from the side door of the main building, holding a set of keys in his hand, his face wearing a formulaic wariness. A name tag was pinned to his chest: Administrator - Wang. "We're special consultants from the Municipal Bureau." Lu Chenzhou produced a document stamped with a red seal—a blank authorization he had obtained through Qin Wangshu's old channels, which he had filled in himself. The letterhead read "Major Case Pattern Analysis Auxiliary Investigation," the wording was official and flawless. Administrator Wang leaned in to look at the seal, then scrutinized the two men: "This place... isn't normally open to the public. Especially the ruins area in the backyard." "Understood." Lu Chenzhou nodded. "We only need two hours. To re-examine the spatial data of the historical fire scene, for constructing a behavioral model of the perpetrator in a current arson case." His tone was even, his vocabulary professional. "This is the scene analogy analysis method in criminal investigation techniques, which can help narrow down the suspect profile." He spoke without leaving any gaps. Administrator Wang hesitated, the keys jingling in his hand. Zhou Zhengping suddenly spoke, his voice low and hoarse: "Lao Wang, that big fire in 1987... have you heard about it?" The administrator was taken aback: "Ah, I heard the old director mention it. Said it was aging electrical wiring in the archives, three people died." "It wasn't the wiring." Zhou Zhengping stared at him, his gaze sharpening, that old detective's intensity briefly overpowering the trauma. "It was arson. There were accelerant residues at the scene, at least two points of origin. Back then, it was classified as an accident because..." He stopped, took a deep breath, "Because someone needed it to be an accident." The air froze. Lu Chenzhou glanced at Zhou Zhengping. His mentor's sudden outburst was beyond his calculations, but at this moment, that outburst became leverage—the administrator's attention was completely captured, his suspicion replaced by a stronger curiosity about the hidden past. "This... I really didn't know about that..." Administrator Wang rubbed his hands, his eyes flickering. "So you... are looking to overturn the case?" "No." Lu Chenzhou took over, his tone decisive. "We're only conducting technical analysis. The classification of historical cases is outside the scope of this investigation. But—" he shifted his tone, "if physical evidence at the scene contradicts the records from that year, we have an obligation to document and report it." He used the word "obligation." The weight of the system. Administrator Wang looked at the scorched wall, then at the two men, and finally sighed: "Alright. Two hours, just two hours. The activity center opens at 9:30, children will start arriving then, you'll have to leave." The key slid into the lock and turned. On the white wall blocking the doorway, there was a concealed maintenance hatch. It creaked open a crack. A smell of old dust mixed with damp brick and stone wafted out. Lu Chenzhou bent down and ducked in first. Zhou Zhengping froze at the entrance for a few seconds, then suddenly tilted his head back and gulped down a large mouthful of water, crumpling the empty bottle and tossing it into the trash bin. When he followed inside, his hunched back looked as if he were carrying the weight of the entire scorched wall. Administrator Wang stood outside the door, not following them in. But he didn't leave either; he leaned against the doorframe and lit a cigarette. The smoke curled upward, his eyes scanning back and forth between the two men and the scorched wall. The small door closed behind them. The light dimmed abruptly. This was the sealed-off connecting passage, about two meters wide and ten meters long. It must have been the corridor between the main building and the annex of the archives back then. Now, both sides were piled with discarded construction materials and old desks and chairs, covered with thick dust cloths. The floor was raw concrete, covered in dust, with messy footprints—some fresh, some old. Lu Chenzhou turned on his flashlight. The beam cut through the gloom. He crouched down and ran his fingers over the floor. Beneath the dust, the concrete surface had fine, radial cracks spreading outward. "High-temperature scorching," he murmured, as if to himself. "The central temperature had to exceed eight hundred degrees Celsius to cause concrete to expand and crack like this." The beam moved, shining on the wall. The original lime coating had peeled off in large patches, revealing the red bricks beneath. The brick surfaces had varying shades of soot stains—the parts near the ground were pitch black, gradually lightening upward, stopping abruptly at about human height. "The soot line is around 1.2 meters," "Professor." Lu Chenzhou stood up, his flashlight beam pointing toward the end of the corridor—which was completely blocked by a pile of bricks. "In the records, approximately where was the 'second point of origin' mentioned?" Zhou Zhengping's body swayed. He raised a hand to brace himself against the wall, his palm pressing onto the soot-stained black marks. "...Over there." He pointed vaguely behind the brick pile, his voice unsteady. "The stairwell of the annex. Old Li... collapsed near there." "How far is it from here?" "Fifteen meters. Maybe twenty." Zhou Zhengping closed his eyes, his breathing growing heavier. "There was a fire door in between, but that day... the door was open. The fire leapt over from here, fast." Lu Chenzhou walked up to the brick pile. These bricks were used later during the sealing-off, their color and texture different from the original building bricks. He carefully shone his flashlight along the mortar joints, then crouched down, retrieving a portable magnifying glass from his tool bag. There was something in the mortar joint. Not dust, but a few extremely fine, glass-like residues of melted material, embedded deep within the cement seam. Dark green, semi-transparent. Lu Chenzhou carefully extracted one particle with tweezers and placed it on his palm. "What is this?" Zhou Zhengping had come up behind him without him noticing. "Borosilicate glass," Lu Chenzhou said, a subtle fluctuation entering his tone for the first time. "A common material for laboratory glassware. This shouldn't be in the archives." "Maybe someone threw it in later..." "It's embedded deep within the mortar joint, integrated with the cement used to seal the bricks." Lu Chenzhou lifted his gaze. "Meaning it existed before the bricks were laid. And—" He angled his flashlight beam; the surface of the glass residue reflected fine, web-like cracks. "These are thermal stress cracks caused by rapid heating and cooling. It experienced extremely high temperatures, then was rapidly cooled." Zhou Zhengping stared at the particle of residue, his face gradually paling. Lu Chenzhou collected the residue and placed it in an evidence bag. He continued inspecting the base of the brick pile, sweeping his flashlight beam inch by inch across the ground. Then he stopped. On the cement floor, there were several shallow scratch marks. Not from tool scraping, but more like... friction marks left by something heavy being dragged. The scratches extended toward the base of the brick pile, disappearing into the mortar joints. "Before this was sealed off, someone moved something here," Lu Chenzhou said. He stood up and looked at Zhou Zhengping. "Professor, after the initial on-site investigation back then, how were the evidence and remains handled?" "According to regulations... everything should have been cleaned up and sealed for storage." Zhou Zhengping's voice grew increasingly dry. "But that time... the fire damage was too severe, many areas were structurally dangerous. The investigation was only preliminary. Later, during reconstruction, most of the debris was directly buried or cleared away." "The records of the clearance?" "I don't know." Zhou Zhengping shook his head. "That case... was transferred very quickly. It wasn't my responsibility." Lu Chenzhou didn't press further. He walked to the side wall of the corridor, where a row of old-fashioned cast-iron radiators stood, long since rusted. Behind the radiators, on the wall, there was an inconspicuous maintenance access panel. The cover plate was fixed with screws, but the screws showed signs of having been turned—the rust patterns were cut through by fresh metal scratches. He took a screwdriver from his tool bag. "You're going to open it?" Zhou Zhengping asked. "I need to see the ventilation duct behind it," Lu Chenzhou said, his hands not stopping. "The path of fire spread is directly related to the ventilation system. If someone back then used the ducts to accelerate combustion..." The screws came out. The cover plate was removed. A thicker, musty odor of dust and corroded metal rushed out. The inside of the duct was pitch black. The flashlight beam revealed only thick accumulated dust, like a layer of felt. Lu Chenzhou leaned in. The duct diameter was about sixty centimeters, just barely enough for a person to crawl through. There were marks on the dust—not from animal movement, but regular, parallel scrape marks, evenly spaced, like... the two legs of some kind of tool. He pulled his head back and looked at Zhou Zhengping. "Professor, during your investigation back then, did you inspect the ventilation ducts?" Zhou Zhengping was momentarily stunned, his gaze beginning to wander. "The ducts... there was too much smoke, visibility was almost zero. We only inspected the main passageways and a few obvious exits." "Which means the interior of the ducts may never have been thoroughly investigated." Before the words had fully settled, a cough The freshly laid colored plastic flooring gave off a pungent chemical smell. The laughter of children drifted from the distance, sharp as needles piercing the dead silence before the charred wall. The air hung so heavy and stagnant, it felt like you could squeeze ash from it. Lu Chenzhou handed over a bottle of water. "Teacher, we need to check the connecting passageway between the main building and the annex from back then," he said, his voice steady as if discussing the weather. "The statements said the fire spread from there." He pointed to the old doorway sealed with bricks at the side of the wall. The cement sealing it was new, forming a glaring contrast with the surrounding blackened, scorched stones. Zhou Zhengping didn't take the water. His left hand unconsciously spun the old enamel teacup, turning it rapidly. The friction between the lid and the cup made a faint, fragmented *click-clack* sound. "The passageway…" he repeated the word, his voice hoarse. "Sealed off long ago. The third day after… after the fire was put out." "I need to see photos from before it was sealed, and the architectural blueprints," Lu Chenzhou said, though his gaze was fixed on the distribution of the smoke stains on the charred wall. Something was off about the marks. The brick surface showed smoke stains of varying intensity—the parts near the ground were pitch black like ink, gradually fading higher up, stopping abruptly at about chest height. Above that, the scorching grew darker again, forming a bizarre, double-layered banded pattern. This wasn't the typical smoke pattern of a single ignition point spreading upward. "What are you looking at?" A middle-aged man's voice came from behind them. The custodian, wearing dark blue work clothes, held a ring of keys in his hand, his eyes brimming with suspicion. He stood at the edge of the plastic flooring, the toes of his shoes touching the boundary line of the charred wall's base, as if demarcating territory. "You two have been loitering here for quite a while. Said you were from the Municipal Bureau. Let's see your credentials." Zhou Zhengping turned around, his movements somewhat stiff. He pulled out a crumpled leather wallet from inside his jacket, opened it to reveal a yellowed consultant ID inside. "Retired. Assisting with the review," he said, the weariness in his voice so heavy it weighed down every word. "Here are the procedures." He handed over a printed sheet of paper—the fake Municipal Bureau letter Lu Chenzhou had prepared last night. The wording was vague, stating only "historical case scene review to assist current case pattern analysis." The seal was real, one he had restored from an abandoned template through Fang Mu. The custodian squinted at it for a long moment. "This seal… I've never seen this format before." "Special task force. Temporary seal," Lu Chenzhou took over, injecting a note of just-the-right-amount bureaucratic tone into his voice. "Mainly want to examine the physical structure of the fire scene from back then, analyze the arsonist's behavior patterns. There's a current case with a similar MO." He paused, then added, "We won't move anything. Just measurements and photos." The custodian's eyes swept back and forth between the two men. The knuckles on Zhou Zhengping's hand holding the teacup were white. A faint twitch started at the corner of Lu Chenzhou's left eye. He raised his hand, pretending to rub his brow. "Ten minutes," the custodian finally said, handing the paper back. "Just this backyard area. Don't go into the main building. Parent-child activities are about to start. Parents and kids will be coming soon." He turned and walked away, the key ring jangling at his waist. The footsteps faded. Zhou Zhengping let out a long, slow breath. That breath condensed into a small white puff of mist before the charred wall, quickly dissipating. "You forged an official document," he said. Not an accusation. A statement. "Necessary means," Lu Chenzhou put the paper away. "Teacher, look at this wall." He stepped closer, his finger hovering over the broken band of smoke stains. "If the ignition point was really at the file cabinet—the statements said the cabinet was on the west side of the annex, at least eight meters from this wall. For the fire to spread here, it would have had to burn through the wooden partition first, then ignite the decorative paneling on the outer side of this brick wall." He paused, letting Zhou Zhengping's gaze follow his finger. "But look, the heaviest smoke staining is at the base of the wall, and again at the top," Lu Chenzhou said. "This middle section is lighter. What does that look like?" Zhou Zhengping stared at the wall, his pupils slowly contracting. "Chimney Lu Chenzhou also crouched down, pulling a high-powered flashlight and a tape measure from his bag. He first measured the width of the charred marks at the base of the wall—thirty-five centimeters, abnormally neat, as if drawn with a ruler. Then he turned on the flashlight, sweeping the beam along the surface of the wall. In the column of light, dust swirled. Deep within a certain brick joint, he saw a faint glint of metal. "Teacher," Lu Chenzhou said, his voice very soft, "Was there ever a ventilation shaft behind this wall?" Zhou Zhengping abruptly looked up. Something in his eyes seemed to crack, fragments piercing deep into his pupils. "Ventilation shaft..." he repeated, his fingers digging deeper, black soot seeping under his fingernails, mixing with blood, "The archives... the old archives building... did have an abandoned ventilation system... built from a wartime air raid shelter..." He was speaking incoherently. Lu Chenzhou’s flashlight beam fixed on that glint. It wasn’t brick or stone; it was metal, corroded, but the edges still had sharp angles. He pulled out the Swiss Army knife he always carried, probing into the brick joint with the tip of the tweezers. A gentle pry. A loose, charred brick came away, revealing a dark, gaping fissure behind it. A musty odor of accumulated dust and corroded metal rushed out, making Zhou Zhengping cough violently. Lu Chenzhou held his breath, stabbing the flashlight beam into the darkness. It wasn’t a crack in the wall. It was a vertical passageway, sealed with bricks and stones, about forty centimeters wide, bottomless. The inner walls were coated with a thick layer of soot, like black velvet. About a meter down, the flashlight beam caught several pieces of melted, deformed plastic debris, half-buried in the ashes. Beside the debris, something glinted. Copper. Zhou Zhengping saw it too. His breathing suddenly grew heavy, as if someone were choking him. "That... that's..." "Teacher," Lu Chenzhou interrupted him, his voice taut as a straight line, "I need you to help me brace that loose inspection panel." He pointed to the upper side of the passageway—there was a rusted iron plate there, fixed with four screws, but two of them had already fallen out. The plate hung askew, revealing a broader darkness behind it. "What?" Zhou Zhengping was bewildered. "Brace it," Lu Chenzhou repeated, already standing up and pulling a folding pry bar from his bag. "I suspect there might be residual flammable materials from back then that weren't cleaned out. I need to take samples." It was an excuse, rough, but enough to explain things if the custodian came back. Zhou Zhengping stared at him for two seconds. The cracks in the old man's eyes were widening, but something harder was rising from beneath those cracks—professional instinct, or something deeper, something soaked in alcohol yet never truly dead. He nodded, pressed his shoulder against the wall, using his back to brace the iron plate. The iron plate groaned. More dust sifted down. Lu Chenzhou moved quickly. He first inserted the tip of the pry bar into the passageway, gently pushing aside the pieces of plastic debris. The melted mass had congealed into a lump, crumbling at the touch, fragments drifting in the flashlight beam like black snow. Then he reached in. His fingertips passed through the brick joint, probing into the passageway. Dust enveloped them, cold, fine, carrying the metallic scent of rust. He touched it—that copper glint. The texture was rough, the edges showing signs of melting, but the main structure remained. It was small, smaller than a fingernail. He pinched it, slowly pulling it out. A faint scraping sound came as the copper piece left the ashes. In that very moment, Zhou Zhengping suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse like sandpaper grating on brick. "Back then... I collapsed right around here." Lu Chenzhou’s hand paused. "The smoke was too thick... couldn't see a thing..." Zhou Zhengping continued, his back bracing the iron plate, his body trembling slightly, "But I heard a sound... the sound of bricks and stones collapsing... right in this direction..." He turned his head, his eyes gleaming with a turbid wetness in the dim light. "Chenzhou, tell me the truth," he said, each word seeming dug out from the depths of his chest, "What are you really looking for?" Lu Chenzhou’s fingertips held the copper piece. It lay in his palm, covered in black soot, but the embossed lotus pattern—the Shen family emblem—was faintly discernible. The edges showed signs of melting, but the seal script outline of the character "Shen" was still there "It's impossible." He finally spoke, his voice as soft as a whisper. "I looked over the evidence list from that year countless times... This wasn't on it. It wasn't." "So it shouldn't be here." Lu Chenzhou put away the bronze piece, quickly placing it into a prepared evidence bag and tucking it into his inner pocket, against his skin. "But it appeared. At the bottom of the ventilation shaft, together with the melted plastic residue." He turned off the flashlight. The passage returned to darkness. "Teacher, the incident report states the primary ignition source was the filing cabinet." Lu Chenzhou stood up, brushing the dust from his hands. "But based on the spray direction and accumulation pattern of those melted materials—" He traced an arc in the air with his flashlight. "The fire seems to have started below this ventilation shaft first," he said. "Then the heat flow and flames surged upwards along the vertical shaft, creating a secondary ignition point at the top of the wall. That's why the smoke staining has a double-layered distribution." Zhou Zhengping slowly straightened up. The steel plate lost its support and clanged back into place with a loud crash that echoed through the courtyard. In the distance, the caretaker peeked over in their direction. "What are you doing over there?!" he shouted. "Nothing serious!" Lu Chenzhou raised his voice, his tone returning to calm. "Found some residual material, already sampled. We'll be done soon!" The caretaker muttered something and pulled his head back. Zhou Zhengping was still trembling. Not from fear, but from something more violent colliding inside him. He stared at Lu Chenzhou, his gaze as complex as a tangled mess of thread—guilt, anger, fear, and a trace of a long-dormant sharpness forcibly awakened. "Do you know what this means?" he asked, his voice pressed very low. "It means the on-site investigation report from that year had major omissions." Lu Chenzhou said, starting to pack up his tools. "Or... someone intentionally omitted it." "Shen Yan..." Zhou Zhengping spat out the two words like poison. Lu Chenzhou didn't respond. He folded the pry bar and stuffed it back into his bag, zipping it up. His movements were steady, but the twitch at the corner of his left eye became more pronounced. The two of them left the scorched wall and walked to the stainless steel sink in the corner of the backyard. Its surface was covered in scratches, reflecting a distorted sky and their faces. Zhou Zhengping turned on the faucet. Water gushed out, icy cold. He thrust his hands under the stream, scrubbing hard. The black grime mixed with traces of blood under his nails washed away into pale red trickles that snaked towards the drain. Lu Chenzhou also washed his hands. The water was very cold, numbing his knuckles. He stared at the sink's surface—in the stainless steel reflection, he could see the second-floor windows of the main building behind them. The third window from the left. The curtains were beige, thick, and drawn tightly shut. But at that moment, the gap in the curtains moved slightly. Not from the wind. The wind was blowing from behind them, in the opposite direction. Lu Chenzhou continued scrubbing his hands, his movements unbroken. From the sink's reflection, he watched that window, watching the deep, bottomless darkness behind the curtain gap. Zhou Zhengping turned off the faucet. The sound of running water ceased abruptly, and silence surged up like a tide. He lowered his head, flicked the water droplets from his hands, and suddenly said, "Someone is watching us." His voice was very soft, almost drowned out by the distant traffic noise from the street. "Second floor, that window on the left," Zhou Zhengping continued, not looking up. "The curtain moved." Lu Chenzhou didn't look up either. He slowly tightened the faucet, letting the last drop of water fall from his fingertip, splashing into tiny ripples at the bottom of the sink. "Saw it," he said. Two words. No question, no surprise, just confirmation. Zhou Zhengping finally looked up at him. The old man's eyes were damp, whether from moisture or something else, it was unclear. "You already knew we'd be under surveillance." "An assumption," Lu Chenzhou said, pulling a tissue from his bag to dry his hands. "Shen Yan wouldn't let me act freely. The anonymous warning said this was a trap." "Then why did you still come?" "Because there might be real bait in a trap, too." Lu Chenzhou folded the tissue and threw it into a nearby trash bin. "That seal... if Shen Yan dropped it while fabricating the scene back then, it's ironclad evidence. If it's false evidence they planted now, it's also a clue—it "You know I'm not fooling around." Lu Chenzhou turned, his back to the main building's window. "You know these past ten years, I haven't only learned resentment. You know..." He paused, searching for the right words. "You know you have a choice," he finally said. "Keep pretending to be drunk, or help me one last time." Zhou Zhengping stared at the teacup in his hand. The cup was printed with faded red characters—"Outstanding Worker, 1986." The lettering was blurred, the edges worn white. "Help you with what?" he asked. "Verification," Lu Chenzhou said. "This seal needs metal composition analysis, rust layer dating, thermodynamic simulation of the burn marks. I need a reliable lab, no formal procedures, no records." "That's impossible—" "You have contacts," Lu Chenzhou interrupted. "Before you retired, you mentored three apprentices at the Physical Evidence Appraisal Center. One of them, Li Wei, later went to a private third-party appraisal agency. He owes you a favor." Zhou Zhengping's hand trembled. Tea splashed out, scalding a red mark onto the back of his hand. "How do you know?" His voice tightened. "Investigation," Lu Chenzhou said. "Teacher, these ten years... besides being in prison, I spent them thinking about how to get out. How to overturn the case after getting out. I investigated everyone, including you." The words were like a knife, thrusting into the already thin air between them. Zhou Zhengping closed his eyes. His breathing sank, like an unstoppable tide receding into the depths, exposing the jagged rocks beneath. He was old; those rocks had been worn smooth by time, but they were still hard. "One last time," he opened his eyes and said. "Just this once. After that, we're even." "Fine," Lu Chenzhou nodded. No handshake, no promise. The deal was struck beside the cold sink, surrounded by the distant laughter of children and the gaze from behind the main building windows. Lu Chenzhou shouldered his bag. "Let's go. The administrator will be coming to hurry us soon." The two walked through the courtyard, one after the other. The rubberized ground made a slight elastic sound underfoot, like walking on the skin of some giant creature. The charred gable wall fell behind them, gradually shrinking until it finally disappeared into the shadows of the main building's corner. When they reached the front gate, the administrator was leaning against the doorframe smoking. The smoke was pungent, the cheap smell of tar. "Finished?" he asked, blowing smoke rings. "Finished," Lu Chenzhou said. "Thanks for your cooperation." The administrator waved a hand, silent, but his eyes followed them until they stepped out the gate and into the noisy flow of people on the street outside. The sunlight was blinding. Lu Chenzhou narrowed his eyes, took sunglasses from his pocket, and put them on. The black lenses filtered out most of the light, turning the world a gloomy gray-blue. Zhou Zhengping walked half a step beside him, hunched over, like a truly old man. They walked silently for half a block before stopping at a bus stop. "Li Wei's number," Zhou Zhengping took out his phone, tapped a few times. The screen lit up, displaying a string of digits. "I'll call him first. You... wait for word." Lu Chenzhou memorized the number. "Thank you, Teacher." "Don't thank me," Zhou Zhengping put his phone away, his gaze drifting to a still-open general store across the street. "I'm just... tired. I don't want to dream anymore." He paused, his voice even lower. "That seal... if it's real, then Shen Yan participated in fabricating the fire scene back then. If it's fake..." "Then it means they're still setting traps now," Lu Chenzhou finished. "Trying to lure me in with fake evidence, then send me back on charges of 'fabricating evidence, falsely accusing others.' Or simpler—have me 'accidentally' die while chasing down the fake evidence." Zhou Zhengping turned to look at him. The sunglasses hid Lu Chenzhou's eyes; the old man could only see his own reflection in the lenses—aged, weary, eyes still holding remnants of undissipated fear. "What do you plan to do?" he asked. "Verify," Lu Chenzhou said. "Then, decide the next step based on the result." The bus arrived, its shabby body painted with faded advertisements. Zhou Zhengping fished out some change and boarded. He didn't look back, his figure disappearing into the depths of the carriage. Lu Chenzhou stood where he was, watching the bus drive away, its exhaust trailing a gray streak in the sunlight. He raised a hand, touched his inner pocket The bet had been laid out—a melted copper piece, a possible ironclad piece of evidence, a fatal trap. And he had to find the only safe path through this minefield. Or, make one.