"Hello, this is Qin Jiu from room 1808. My wife and I seemed to hear some arguing last night and were a little concerned. Also, we'd like to order two breakfasts, please deliver them to the room a bit later."
Qin Jiu hung up the phone calmly.
The word "wife" struck Shen Mian like a soft yet precise bullet the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. Fully dressed, her damp hair clinging to her pale cheeks, she felt even more exposed than if she were naked.
He wasn't just fabricating a scene; he was fabricating a relationship. One that bound them together inextricably.
"You..." Shen Mian's voice trembled with anger and fear. "What gives you the right?"
"The fact that this is the optimal solution," Qin Jiu turned, his gaze sweeping over her calmly. "A single woman alone with a陌生男性 (strange man), or a worried married couple who delayed calling the police? Which story do you think the police will find more believable?"
He always had his logic—cold, precise, irrefutable.
Just then, Shen Mian's phone vibrated frantically again.
[Yoyo]
It felt like a summons from the underworld.
Shen Mian could almost picture her best friend's face—energetic yet stern with work focus. She answered, forcing her voice to sound groggy and irritated, as if just woken up. "...Yoyo?"
"Mianmian! Are you still asleep? Something terrible has happened!" Lu Yoyo's words tumbled out fast and urgent, background noise hinting at faint sirens and colleagues talking. "We got a call—there's been a murder at your hotel! Just a few floors below you! Lock your door right now, don't open it for anyone! We're on our way!"
Shen Mian's heart clenched violently. She looked up at Qin Jiu.
He stood not far away, watching her quietly. His eyes were like bottomless, icy pools, silently conveying his command.
"I... I understand," Shen Mian forced herself to steady her breathing. "I have a bit of a headache, probably had too much to drink last night. You... be careful."
"Don't worry! With my little uncle here, any monster will show its true colors!" Yoyo's tone held a blind admiration, then she lowered her voice. "But Mianmian, this is weird... initially, the scene seems off, too 'clean'... Can't talk now, the elevator's here. We're about to start the scene investigation and personnel checks. We might reach your floor soon, be prepared!"
The call ended abruptly.
"Scene investigation" and "personnel checks" hit Shen Mian's ears like two heavy blows.
She gripped the overheated phone, her knuckles turning white. The last shred of hope was utterly shattered. Not only was Yoyo coming, but she was arriving with professional suspicion. The "little uncle" Yoyo spoke of—a legend in the police force—was now standing before her in压迫性的实体 (an overwhelmingly tangible form), her only "accomplice."
"They... they'll be here soon," Shen Mian's voice was light as a sigh, laden with resigned despair.
"Perfect timing." Qin Jiu raised his hand and glanced at his wristwatch, an movement as elegant as if attending a gala. "The final step. We need to get our stories aligned."
He walked towards her, his steps steady, exuding an air of complete control.
"Last night was your celebration banquet. You drank too much. I, your husband, came to take you home. But you were too drunk to move, so I had to get a room here for us to rest. As for the deceased, Wang Jianming..." He paused, his gaze sharpening as it landed on her. "We don't know him. Never had any contact. Why he was found in the living area of our suite is a mystery we need to help the police solve. Remember, from now on, you have complete trust and reliance in me."
"Husband"? "Trust and reliance"?
Shen Mian wanted to laugh, but couldn't move her lips. This absurd script was one she had to perform.
"What if... what if they don't believe it?"
"They will," Qin Jiu's lips curved into a faint, almost cruel smile. "Because I will make them believe."
His confidence stemmed from absolute capability, and it sent a chill down her spine.
Suddenly, faint, muffled footsteps and voices became audible from outside the door.
The police were here!
Shen Mian's body stiffened instantly. Blood seemed to rush back to her heart, causing a ringing in her ears.
Just as her mind went blank, teetering on the verge of bolting for the door, a warm, dry hand enveloped her icy, trembling one.
It was Qin Jiu.
The heat from his palm seared through her, making her shudder.
Shen Mian looked up in shock, meeting his eyes. The previous cold analysis was gone, replaced by something she couldn't comprehend—a gentle, firm reassurance.
"Don't be afraid," he said softly, his voice unlike the feigned hoarseness she had used on the phone; it was unnervingly calm, strangely soothing. "I'm here."
In that moment, a wave of profound absurdity washed over Shen Mian.
The man who had created all this fear had now become her only refuge. This path he had laid out—this sole route to survival leading into an unknown abyss—was one she had no choice but to cling to desperately.
The doorbell rang.
"Ding dong—"
The crisp sound echoed through the deathly quiet room like a clap of thunder.
Qin Jiu tightened his grip on her hand, the pressure leaving no room for refusal. Then, holding her hand, he led her towards the door facing the unknown, like a truly loving couple about to greet morning visitors.
Shen Mian looked at profile, then down at their joined hands.
This hand had just pushed open a crack—not letting in light, but a deeper darkness. Yet, undeniably, it was now her only way out.