Dragging the chair behind, Mingshen took his seat at the breakfast table.

"Why are you looking like a ghost first thing in the morning?" Yang Bingqing frowned while enjoying the delicious toast of butter and jam.

Instead of answering her, he looked around him. "Where is Spicy?"

"She left early in the morning."

"Oh."

Her eyes narrowed. "Hm? Hm? Hm? I smell something funny. If this was really you, then your face would have dropped into a gloomy depression but somehow you don’t care now?"

"It’s not like she is going to have an affair."

"Ohoho! So it means it would have bothered you if she had been meeting someone~?" Her eyes blinked cutely.

"Mom, you are too free these days," he grimaced.

"And you look too grumpy these days. Especially today. What happened? Didn’t sleep well last night."

His brow twitched for a moment. "Sleep was fine."

She gasped. "You had a wet dream!"

"..."

That statement raised Yang Cheng’s brow. Then he went back to eating his omelette as if nothing had happened.

"Mom, I am not some horny teen."

She sneered. "You are acting exactly like one. You definitely had a naughty dream about Jia and now you don’t know how to face her. That’s why you didn’t mind when she wasn’t here."

"Why don’t you join the Bureau?" He smiled coldly. "Your detective skills are going to waste."

"Cheng! Am I not telling the truth? The guilt on his face is blaring like a red siren!"

"Hm," was his perfunctory response as always.

"Aren’t you two all lovey-dovey first thing in the morning?" He grimaced.

"You are just jealous that you aren’t with Jia at this stage. I cannot believe you are such a slowpoke! Your birthday is coming up in a few days!"

"Oh," he then shrugged. That was just another day for him.

Yang Bingqing kicked him under the table. "Idiot! I mean to say that you will turn thirty-one now. Where are the wedding bells? Where is my grandchild?" she sniffled. "Why haven’t any of them happened yet!? I don’t mind the order in which things happen. I just want to see some progress!" She glared.

"Your second son Wei is happily married with two cute children. Go bug him."

"I want my other son to get in his game too! That’s why no more wasting time. Get your ass out of the house and do something!" Her nostrils flared.

Do what? His lips stretched into a thin line and for a moment, the image of Jia standing in front of his door flashed before him. The slightly shy but slightly sultry look in her eye made him swallow a gulp.

The chair drew back and he got up. "I am leaving."

"Whaaaat? But you didn’t even touch your breakfast," she pouted.

"Not hungry."

"Hehe, because Jia is not here."

"Because an annoying bug keeps buzzing."

"..."

"You dare not call me that bug."

He sneered.

He was about to leave when he stopped once and asked, "Uncle Xie is not here either."

That dropped her face and paused Yang Cheng’s movements.

Yang Bingqing sighed. "He doesn’t have the appetite he says...I try my best to pull him out of his room, but he doesn’t listen. I don’t blame him though. Mulan was his entire world and now losing his only daughter...The days are hard for him. Cheng and I are doing everything we can but..." she sighed once again.

"Saw in the news. Her company is as good as over," his brow arched.

"All thanks to Jia and her team. They have taken the core development team into questioning. You cannot even imagine how many families have sued the company. It’s a sinking ship now. I still cannot believe it. Mulan was raised right before our eyes but she had such a hideous side hidden within her."

A moment of silence later, Mingshen’s phone buzzed with a message. When he read Jia’s name, he paused, his expression changing for no particular reason.

Spicy is the sharpest knife in the drawer. Did she come to know about my dream? Is this a death message?

’Are you busy right now? We got a case so need a forensic doctor for investigation.’

Mingshen didn’t know why but he heaved a sigh of relief.

So this is a call for work, not death.

He grinned.

’On my way, Spicy!’

—

The crime scene was already cordoned off when Mingshen arrived. A half-finished construction site with concrete pillars. Dust suspended in the morning light. The air smelled of rust and damp earth. Jia’s team moved in quiet coordination, murmuring into radios and marking evidence points with small yellow flags.

Jia stood near the center, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail. She was studying the body laid out beside an unfinished staircase, expression sharp and unreadable.

For a second, Mingshen stopped walking, staring at her ponytail a moment too long.

"Mingshen?" She looked up, blinking. "What’s wrong?"

"I wasn’t looking at your neck."

"Huh?"

"Huh?"

"I didn’t say you were looking at my neck," she stared. "Or were you?"

"No, what I mean is...your hair is dry."

"..."

"A cop doesn’t have the luxury to get time for having silky hair..." she muttered under her breath, strangely conscious of her hair now.

What the hell is wrong with me? Mingshen’s annoyance at himself was increasing every passing moment.

Was her hair silky in the dream?

"Spicy, you are sexy even with dry hair."

The officers gave him a strange, dumbfounded look and so did Jia herself, trying her best not to twitch her lips.

"Th...Thanks Mingshen. Your approval means a lot to me."

I think I messed up.

"Dry hair is not necessarily bad, you know."

Now I feel it’s a problem since you are not letting it go, she thought.

He approached, albeit slowly while slipping on gloves. "What do we have?"

"Male. Mid-thirties. Blunt force trauma to the head. No sign of struggle nearby." Her tone was professional, steady. "Looks staged."

Her eyes flicked up to meet him, causing a subtle hitch in his breathing.

She blinked, slightly tilting her head. "Did you sleep at all?"