Lin Wan did not sleep that night.
She lay on top of the sheets with her phone in her hand, listening to the recording until every pause in Chen Zui's voice became familiar.
I didn't even brake.
Each time she heard it, something inside her tightened and steadied at the same time.
It was not relief.
Certainly not peace.
It was proof.
Proof that he had said it. Proof that he had meant it, if only for one drunken second. Proof that Wang Xiao had not died in some blurred accident that could be folded into paperwork and forgotten.
Around three in the morning, she opened her notes app and started writing down everything she knew about Chen Zui.
Habits.
Thursday nights. Private rooms. Too much alcohol.
Weaknesses.
Attention. Flattery. An audience.
Fear.
Hospital corridor. Shaking hands. Avoiding eye contact.
She stared at that last word for a while.
Fear could be useful.
That thought should have disgusted her. A week ago, maybe it would have. Now it only felt practical.
The version of herself that cared about staying clean had been buried with Wang Xiao.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Wang Xiao's mother.
Did you eat anything today?
Lin Wan looked at the screen until the words blurred. Then she typed back.
I'm fine. You should rest.
She sent it, set the phone aside, then picked it up again almost immediately.
There was one name in her contacts she had not touched in years.
Zhou Yu.
They had known each other at university. Not the kind of friendship that survived on sentiment, but the kind that survived on memory and occasional usefulness. Zhou Yu understood nightlife, understood people, and had always been good at noticing what men said when they thought nothing would happen to them.
Lin Wan stared at the number.
Then she thought of Chen Jin's warning.
Stop before this becomes irreversible.
She thought of Wang Xiao's face.
Then she pressed call.
Zhou Yu answered on the second ring.
"Lin Wan?"
The surprise in her voice was real.
"I need a favor."
A pause.
"You always sound too calm when you want something."
"Can you meet me tomorrow?"
"Depends. Where?"
"Near Night."
That got another pause, this one longer.
"Why there?"
"Because he goes there."
"Who?"
Lin Wan did not say the name right away.
Then she did.
"Chen Zui."
Zhou Yu sucked in a breath. "You've lost your mind."
"Possibly," Lin Wan said. "Are you free?"
Silence stretched for a moment.
Then Zhou Yu asked, "What exactly are you planning?"
"Nothing illegal."
"That answer never means anything good."
"I need a private room. A waitress who keeps her mouth shut. And someone who won't interfere unless I ask."
Zhou Yu made a sound somewhere between disbelief and irritation.
"That is not a favor. That is logistics for a bad decision."
"I'll pay."
"You were never good at sounding rich."
"I'll still pay."
Another pause.
Then Zhou Yu sighed.
"Tomorrow. Noon. The café across from Night."
Lin Wan closed her eyes briefly.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Zhou Yu said. "And don't wear black. You'll look like revenge with legs."
The line went dead.
For the first time that night, Lin Wan almost smiled.
It disappeared as quickly as it came.
The next morning felt too bright.
Central City moved the way it always did—traffic, office towers, impatient horns, people carrying coffee with the confidence of those whose lives had not split apart this week.
Lin Wan arrived at the café ten minutes early.
The place smelled of burned espresso and damp coats. A few tables were occupied by office workers half-paying attention to their laptops. The glass front looked directly across the street at night, which was closed at this hour and looked less glamorous in daylight.
Zhou Yu came in wearing a fitted beige coat and dark sunglasses she took off only after sitting down.
She studied Lin Wan for a moment without speaking.
"You look terrible," she said finally.
"I've had a bad week."
Zhou Yu's mouth flattened. "That was not meant to be funny."
"I know."
A server came over. Zhou Yu ordered coffee. Lin Wan ordered tea and did not touch it after it arrived.
Zhou Yu leaned back in her chair.
"All right. Start talking."
Lin Wan unlocked her phone and slid it across the table. Chen Zui's profile was open. The photos were recent—private rooms, expensive bottles, lazy grins, friends who looked forgettable enough to be useful to no one.
Zhou Yu looked down at the screen, then back up at Lin Wan.
"You've been tracking him."
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"Since he said the wrong thing to me."
Zhou Yu narrowed her eyes. "How wrong?"
Lin Wan held her gaze.
"Enough."
That answer was enough to make Zhou Yu stop pushing for a second.
She looked back down at the screen and tapped through a few images.
"He still goes out after what happened?"
"He does."
Zhou Yu let out a quiet breath.
"Some men are born stupid. Some are made stupid by money. He looks like both."
Lin Wan said nothing.
Zhou Yu turned the phone back around.
"What do you need from him?"
"I need him alone," Lin Wan said. "Clear-headed enough to talk. Unsteady enough to talk too much."
Zhou Yu's eyes sharpened.
"You're baiting him."
"I'm giving him room."
"That is not better."
"No," Lin Wan said. "It isn't."
For a moment, Zhou Yu just watched her.
There was no pity in her expression. Lin Wan was grateful for that.
"At the hospital," Zhou Yu said slowly, "I heard you went for his throat."
Lin Wan did not ask who had told her.
"If I had meant to kill him," she said, "he wouldn't have been standing afterward."
Zhou Yu was silent for half a beat.
Then she nodded once, as if filing the sentence away for later.
"Fine," she said. "Night won't work tonight."
"Why?"
"Too visible. Too many regulars. He behaves badly there, but he behaves loudly. Loud men are harder to corner."
"So where?"
"There's another place three streets over. Private membership, low lighting, overpriced whiskey, staff who pretend not to notice anything that doesn't involve broken glass."
Lin Wan listened.
"That's where he goes when he wants to feel untouchable," Zhou Yu added. "Which means he'll be easier to manage."
"Can you get me in?"
Zhou Yu gave her a look.
"Of course, I can get you in. The question is whether I should."
Lin Wan did not answer.
After a few seconds, Zhou Yu reached for her coffee and took a slow sip.
"You really are going through with this."
"Yes."
"You do understand that if the Chen's notice me helping you, I become part of the problem too."
Lin Wan looked down at the table.
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
The answer came too quickly to soften.
Zhou Yu set her cup down.
"Then why ask me?"
Lin Wan's throat tightened once. She hated that question because it had only one honest answer.
"Because you said yes."
Zhou Yu stared at her.
Something in her expression changed then. Not sympathy. Something closer to resignation.
"You always know how to make people feel bad after they'd already agreed."
Lin Wan said nothing.
Zhou Yu pulled a compact mirror from her bag, checked her lipstick without really seeing it, then shut it again.
"Fine. I'll arrange a room. I'll tell the floor manager you're with me. One waitress only. No unnecessary staff."
"Thank you."
"Stop thanking me."
Zhou Yu leaned forward slightly.
"And listen carefully. If he gets aggressive, you walk. If he tries to touch you, you walk. If you get what you need, you do not stay for a second victory lap."
"I know."
"No," Zhou Yu said. "You think you know. But grief makes people greedy in strange ways. You get one clean chance at something like this. Don't ruin it because you want to watch him panic."
Lin Wan met her eyes.
That was fair.
She nodded.
"I won't."
Zhou Yu held her gaze for another second, then stood.
"I'll message you the time. Wear something plain."
"Black?"
"Absolutely not."
This time Lin Wan did smile, though only for a moment.
Zhou Yu paused beside the table.
"One more thing," she said.
"What?"
"If this is about justice, you should stop now."
Lin Wan looked out through the café window at the bright, indifferent street.
"It isn't."
Zhou Yu watched her for another second, then left.
By evening, the city had changed color.
The glass towers reflected a softer light. Cars moved in slower lines. Signs began to wake up one by one.
At six forty, Zhou Yu sent the address.
At seven—twelve, she sent another message.
Private room confirmed. He's expected after ten. Don't be early. It makes people suspicious.
Lin Wan spent the next two hours doing what fear always made her do when it refused to become panic.
She prepared.
She charged her phone to full battery. Duplicated the recording from the night before. Checked her cloud backup twice. She turned off biometric unlock and set a passcode she had never used before. Set one delayed message to send if she failed to cancel it by morning.
Then she sat at her kitchen table and looked at Wang Xiao's photograph for a long time.
It had been taken last winter.
He was half-laughing, head turned slightly to the side, as if whoever had taken the picture had caught him in the middle of saying something he didn't expect anyone to remember.
Lin Wan touched the edge of the frame.
"I'm trying," she said quietly.
There was no answer, of course.
There would never be one again.
At nine thirty, she left.
The club did not have a sign outside.
Only a narrow entrance, tinted glass, and a doorman who glanced at Zhou Yu's name on the guest list and stepped aside without a word.
Inside, everything was designed to feel expensive without looking desperate for approval. Dark wood. Low music. Good lighting disguised as bad lighting.
Zhou Yu was already there, seated near the back with one leg crossed over the other and a drink she had no intention of finishing.
She looked Lin Wan over once and nodded.
"Better."
Lin Wan sat down.
"What's the setup?"
"Private room at the end of the side corridor," Zhou Yu said. "He won't go there right away. He'll spend time in the main lounge first if he thinks he has an audience."
"With who?"
"Friends. Women. Whoever happens to be around and impressed enough."
Lin Wan glanced toward the main floor.
"And the staff?"
"One server knows not to interrupt unless I signal. The rest won't care as long as no one starts bleeding."
"That's reassuring."
"It wasn't meant to be."
Zhou Yu looked at her more closely.
"You're pale."
"I'm fine."
"That's not what pale means."
Lin Wan ignored that.
At ten twenty-three, Chen Zui arrived.
He came in laughing.
Two men walked beside him, one on either side. A woman in silver followed behind them, bored already. Chen Zui looked exactly like the kind of man who believed survival meant innocence.
Something cold settled into place inside Lin Wan.
"There," Zhou Yu said quietly.
"I see him."
"Good. Keep seeing him as he is."
Lin Wan did not answer.
For the next half hour, she watched him move through the room.
He drank fast. Talked louder as the minutes passed. Touched shoulders, clinked glasses, leaned too close when he wanted attention. Twice, he checked his phone and frowned. Once, he glanced toward the entrance as if expecting someone else.
"Is he waiting for his brother?" Lin Wan asked.
Zhou Yu followed her gaze, then shook her head.
"No. He's waiting for permission."
Lin Wan looked at her.
"What does that mean?"
"It means men like that don't relax until they've been told they're safe," Zhou Yu said. "And if they start drinking before they get that feeling, they overdo it."
That matched the hospital version of him better than the performance in front of them.
Good.
By eleven, one of his friends had left with the woman in silver. The other was deep in an argument with someone near the bar. Chen Zui was still drinking.
Zhou Yu checked the time.
"Soon."
Lin Wan's pulse had begun to climb, but it was steady enough to use.
She touched her phone once inside her bag.
Still there.
Still ready.
Zhou Yu saw the movement.
"Last chance," she said quietly.
Lin Wan looked at her.
"To leave?"
"To stay human."
The words landed harder than she expected.
Lin Wan thought of Wang Xiao under white hospital sheets. Thought of Chen Jin's voice. Thought of a report that had made a dead man sound negotiable.
Then she looked back at Chen Zui.
"I don't have that option anymore."
Zhou Yu did not argue.
A few minutes later, Chen Zui stood and headed down the side corridor, one hand brushing the wall for balance.
Zhou Yu set down her glass.
"That's your window."
Lin Wan rose.
"Thank you."
"Don't say that unless you come back out with all your bones intact."
Lin Wan gave the smallest nod, then started walking.
Not fast.
Never fast.
The corridor was quieter than the main room, the music more distant. Light from the wall sconces fell in narrow pools across the carpet. Somewhere ahead, a restroom door opened and shut.
By the time Chen Zui came back into view, Lin Wan was already waiting where the corridor narrowed.
He saw her and stopped.
For one perfect second, all his borrowed confidence vanished.
Good, she thought.
Let him remember.
This was the moment she had built the day around.
Not the confession yet.
The first look.
The first instant when he understood that the woman attached to the dead man had not disappeared, had not accepted the official story, and had not gone home to mourn in a way his family could manage.
She was here.
And she was looking straight at him.
Chen Zui's mouth opened.
"Y-you—"
"Yes," Lin Wan said.
His face lost more color.
He looked past her, then behind him, then back at her again.
"There's no one here," she said.
That was not entirely true.
But he didn't know that.
And fear was doing what it always did to men like him—making them stupid in stages.
"I don't know what you're doing here," he said.
Lin Wan took one step forward.
"I do."