Chapter 3: Am I suspended?

Translator: Abo Dammen

☆

Case One: The Phantom Sniper

---

The Major Crimes Division held a case briefing at 2 AM.

He Yixun sat directly across from the projector, listening as team members from different units reported the intelligence they had gathered.

“The shooter is male, well-proportioned, approximately 1.8 meters tall, wears size 43 shoes, and is left-handed. He entered the Starlight Building at 19:10 last night and subsequently fled on foot at 20:45. Since the shooter was wearing a hat and a face mask, and changed his disguise upon leaving—discarded clothing belonging to the shooter was found in the building’s trash bin—the surveillance footage was unable to capture his whereabouts. 

“Based on the shell casings left at the scene, we’ve determined the shooter used a military-grade sniper rifle. We have currently summoned several individuals with prior convictions for selling controlled firearms to the station for questioning. Their statements have been largely consistent: no military sniper rifles have appeared on the black market recently. The source of the firearm still requires investigation.”

“…..”

“From a motive perspective, Li Menglan is a strong suspect. Her son died on the Lucky Number, and the casino license for the Lucky Number was issued by Lin Mei. Additionally, the two are political rivals.”

Among the police, supporters of both women were present. The moment Li Menglan was mentioned as a suspect, someone immediately spoke up in her defense, “Li Menglan’s approval rating is currently rising. She has no reason to do something like this. Besides, as a former prosecutor, she’s even less likely to mastermind a crime.” 

“Precisely because she’s a former prosecutor, she’d find it easier to deflect suspicion. And looking at the outcome, she stands to gain the most from this.”

“Lin Mei has more than one enemy. Her speech today was bound to anger her financial backers.”

“You’ve got your analysis, I’ve got mine.”

“Your analysis is nothing but throwing dirt.” 

As the meeting teetered on the brink of turning into a full-blown argument, He Yixun rapped his knuckles on the table and said in a low voice, “Enough.”

Many of the police officers present had more seniority than He Yixun, yet no one dared to contradict him. The two officers fell silent, though it was clear neither was convinced by the other.

During the election period, Lin Mei and Li Menglan were sensitive topics. Mentioning either could ignite tempers among their respective supporters. Given He Yixun’s position, it was especially inconvenient for him to weigh in, so he skipped over that part and asked, “Has anyone analyzed why the shooter chose Starlight Tower?”

“Probably it’s a good vantage point. It offers a direct view of the Central Square.” 

“There weren’t many people in the building at that time.”

“Most likely, the distance was ideal. It’s not too far from the target, but also convenient for a quick escape.”

At last someone hit the crux. He Yixun gestured toward the speaker with his pen and said, “Exactly. It’s just over eight hundred meters from the target, yet the shooter missed both shots.”

The world’s longest confirmed sniper kill record was 3.8 kilometers. For someone to miss twice at just eight hundred meters, He Yixun doubted this shooter had any real professional training. 

“Could he be a novice?”

“That’s actually possible. 800 meters might be his maximum effective range. Any closer and he risks capture, any farther and he lacks the confidence to hit the target.”

“But he still missed, which suggests his skills really aren’t up to par.”

Though they were still far from identifying a suspect, at least they had a new direction for the investigation. He Yixun instructed each team to take turns resting and to continue following the existing leads, then adjourned the meeting. 

It was nearly three by the time the officers shuffled out of the conference room, looking drained, yawning and sluggish, except for He Yixun, who seemed completely unfazed. He showed no signs of fatigue, his shoulders still squared and his posture ramrod straight.

However, his shirt, drenched from the rain earlier, was now hopelessly wrinkled. He was planning to go home to freshen up before returning to the station when the bureau chief, who had unexpectedly returned to the office, summoned him.

“I just came back from the hospital. Your mother’s there.” Shao Hui said, removing his coat and hanging it on the rack. He poured a glass of water and swallowed a few pills before collapsing wearily into his office chair. “At my age, pulling all-nighters might just finish me off.”

Indeed, pushing fifty wasn’t an age for all-nighters, but a mayoral candidate being shot wasn’t a small matter. Probably everyone with a stake in this was still awake, let alone the police chief directly responsible for the case. 

“How is she doing?” He Yixun asked.

“Not too bad. She’s in good spirits,” Shao Hui replied, his voice hoarse, as if all energy had been drained from him. “The only one injured was her campaign secretary, grazed by a bullet on the arm, but it’s nothing serious.”

Lin Mei was He Yixun’s biological mother, which was why he had avoided discussing Li Menglan during the meeting, and also why the public viewed him as part of the privileged class and subjected him to widespread criticism.

“Does she have any leads?” He Yixun asked, more concerned about this point. 

“She thinks it’s Li Menglan,” Shao Hui said.

“Impossible,” He Yixun replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Unlike his reserved demeanor during the meeting, he now spoke freely and methodically. “If Li Menglan’s motive is the election, her approval rating is already about to surpass Lin Mei’s. There’s no need for such a drastic move.

“If it’s about avenging her son, her son died after harassing a waitress on the Lucky Number. He fell overboard when she struggled free. It was purely an accident. If Li Menglan becomes mayor, shutting down the Lucky Number casino would be the ultimate revenge. There’s no need to take personal vengeance against Lin Mei.

“And even if she did want personal revenge, He Maohu is the owner of the Lucky Number. Why wouldn’t she target him instead?” 

Speaking of which, He Maohu was not only the owner of the Lucky Number but also Lin Mei’s ex-husband and He Yixun’s biological father.

Hearing He Yixun discuss why his father shouldn’t be targeted so matter-of-factly made Shao Hui break out in a cold sweat.

“Whether it’s true or not, your mother has already gathered the press and set the headline for tomorrow’s news,” Shao Hui said.

“Attacking Li Menglan, I suppose?” He Yixun wasn’t the least bit surprised. His impression of politicians was that they would stop at nothing to secure votes. 

“Let’s not dwell on that for now. I came back to talk to you about something else.” Shao Hui’s eye bags seemed to sag all the way to the corners of his mouth, as if wasting another word would be a sacrilege against his dwindling vitality. He pulled a sheet of paper from his drawer and slid it across the desk to He Yixun. “Your psychological evaluation came back clear.”

He Yixun glanced at the report. The report concluded he was emotionally stable, even-keeled, unaffected by the hospital incident, and capable of continuing routine duties.

Besides these, the remarks section included one line: Extremely order-sensitive, with a strong emphasis on rules.

That wasn’t wrong. 

He Yixun indeed despised people and situations that violated rules.

“However,” Shao Hui licked his dry lips, though he was about to issue an order, he used a tone of negotiation, “it’s not the best time for you to appear in public. Take a few days off.”

He Yixun frowned slightly. “But the report says there’s no issue?”

“Yes, we’ve reviewed the surveillance footage. The assailant was indeed aggressive, and your decision to fire was justified.” Shao Hui paused, then shifted gears. “But you know how public opinion can be. With it being such a sensitive time, it’s better for you to lay low for a while. 

“Your mother also doesn’t want you showing up at the hospital. The assailant was shot there, and if you go to question her about the shooting, the media might seize on it and spin some wild stories.”

He Yixun understood immediately. Lin Mei wanted him to keep a low profile to avoid affecting her election campaign.

His expression unchanged, he asked flatly, “Am I being suspended?”

“No, no, it’s just leave,” Shao Hui corrected hastily. “Your gun and badge won’t be confiscated. It’s just… stay clear of this case.” 

He Yixun fell silent, but his icy gaze conveyed his displeasure. Shao Hui, feeling the sting of guilt, coughed and steered the conversation elsewhere. “I heard you arrested someone with… special abilities?”

“Yes,” He Yixun replied indifferently.

That person was still locked in the interrogation room.

According to Chen Zhen, Professor Xu had cursed vehemently and even wished him a lifetime of singledom. 

“Let the others handle the investigation from here,” said Shao Hui.

“Understood.” Without another word, He Yixun rose from his chair. “I’ll head home and rest.”

But instead of walking straight out of the precinct, his steps turned silently toward the interrogation wing.

He Yixun pushed open the door to the observation room next door. Chen Zhen, who had been dozing off, jolted awake and scrambled to his feet, trying to widen his bloodshot eyes. “I wasn’t slacking off, Sir He!” 

“If you’re tired, go sleep.” He Yixun glanced through the one-way mirror at Xu Pei, who sat with his arms crossed, eyes closed in feigned calm, but his furrowed brow betrayed how badly he wanted to curse someone out.

“I reviewed the nearby surveillance footage again. He really did appear out of thin air,” Chen Zhen said, rewinding to the seconds when Xu Pei appeared and replaying the segment repeatedly. “Look, this is the only camera that caught him. One moment he wasn’t there, the screen flickered, and the next moment, there he was.”

He Yixun studied the footage frame by frame. If he weren’t certain the footage hadn’t been tampered with, he would have suspected someone had edited out a segment.

“I had Forensics extract DNA from the coffee he drank, but it doesn’t match any existing cases,” Chen Zhen added, leaning his elbows on the desk and massaging his temples as if his brain had been thoroughly wrung out. “You don’t think he really is from another dimension, do you?” 

“A lack of matches only means he’s never left biological evidence at a crime scene before,” He Yixun said.

“Are you still suspicious of him, Sir He?” Chen Zhen asked. “I think he’s a pretty low-risk suspect.”

Truth be told, more than suspicion, He Yixun wanted to figure out where this person had truly come from.

If society were compared to a massive jigsaw puzzle, where every person was a unique piece with their own place, then Xu Pei was an anomaly—like an extra piece that didn’t fit anywhere. 

This unsettled He Yixun deeply, more than a misplaced pen in a holder ever could.

The matter of his sense of smell aside, He Yixun absolutely refused to believe the dimensional-travel theory. Testing it wouldn’t be difficult. He would just let the lies collapse on its own.

“Release him,” He Yixun said.

“Huh?” Chen Zhen’s brain short-circuited. “We’re not investigating him anymore?” 

“Leave it to me. I’ll handle it.”

☆

Xu Pei had considered himself a civilized person, unless he was dealing with absolute bullshit.

He had thought he’d clearly explained how he knew the sniper’s location, but that stone-faced superintendent had simply said, “Your identity is still suspicious,” and threw him back in custody. 

Being held in a detention cell would have been tolerable. At least he could have caught some sleep. Yet instead, he was once again locked in an interrogation room under blindingly bright lights at 3 AM, so his irritation skyrocketed by the minute.

When curses were no longer enough, Xu Pei began fantasizing that if he ever found a way back, he would drag He Yixun along and make him experience the discrimination of being impotent in the rigidly hierarchical ABO society.

By then, perhaps this cold-faced superintendent would beg Xu Pei for a gland transplant surgery. And of course, Xu Pei, in his magnanimity, would grant it—after first shining interrogation lamps on him for twenty-four hours straight.

The door suddenly swung open, startling Xu Pei. 

He Yixun stood at the threshold, jerking his chin toward the hall. “You’re free to go.”

The satisfying revenge fantasy was abruptly paused. The sudden turn of events left Xu Pei bewildered. “I’m… free?”

He Yixun gave a noncommittal “Mm,” leaning against the doorframe as if urging Xu Pei to leave quickly.

Though unsure what had happened behind the scenes, Xu Pei had long since wanted out. He walked past He Yixun into the hallway, glancing left and right. “Which way do I go?” 

“Straight ahead, turn right, take the elevator. Just leave directly,” said He Yixun.

The strong desire to leave kept Xu Pei overrode doubt. Xu Pei followed the directions all the way to the precinct’s front doors.

The rain had stopped by now. The pre-dawn streets were eerily quiet, carrying the damp freshness of the roadside greenery…. and the lingering, inescapable tang of juniper-scented cologne.

“Officer He,” Xu Pei crossed his arms and turned to face He Yixun, who had been following him, “you still aren’t planning to let me off the hook, are you?” 

He Yixun hadn’t intended to reveal himself so soon but stepped out from the shadows and walked past Xu Pei. “You’re free now.”

It wasn’t until he reached the station entrance that Xu Pei realized he had no money on him, had no idea where he was, and no way to get back to the place he’d crossed from.

It also dawned on him why He Yixun had released him. To see where he would go, thus uncovering his identity.

So much for freedom. It was nothing but a strategy of releasing first to capture later. 

“Fine, I need a ride,” Xu Pei decided to play along. He needed a guide anyway. “Since you’re going to tail me, you might as well drive me.”

He Yixun didn’t refuse. He pulle his car keys from his pocket, brushed past Xu Pei, and headed toward the parking lot. “Where to?”

“Central Square,” Xu Pei said naturally, as if familiar with the name.

He Yixun glanced at him but said nothing, unlocking the SUV he often drove. 

–

After hours of interrogation, Xu Pei had a clear understanding of what had happened and had learned the name of the square.

Central Square was now cordoned off with black-and-yellow police tape, with a few officers patrolling the perimeter. Unlike the noisy crowds from earlier, the square was now silent in the early morning, feeling almost desolate after the thunderstorm.

“So?” He Yixun stood at the center of the square, watching Xu Pei pace around with exaggerated seriousness. “How do you plan to open your spacetime portal?” 

The sarcasm was thick, but Xu Pei couldn’t be bothered to care.

After circling the square several times, he felt nothing unusual. The stone bricks beneath his feet were solid, the full moon hanging in the sky felt within reach, the breeze carried a slight chill, and occasional bird calls echoed crisply through the air.

Everything felt intensely real. Yet there were no signs of an impending transmigration, though Xu Pei wasn’t sure if there should be any signs at all.

Walking across this empty square felt no different from strolling near his home. Nothing had suggested that the next step would lead into another world. 

Was it possible he couldn’t return?

But why had he crossed over here in the first place?

Xu Pei wasn’t an expert in cosmology, but he felt there should be some mechanism at play.

Giving up his aimless wandering, he returned to He Yixun’s side. “Maybe the triggering conditions aren’t met. There was an explosion when I crossed over here.” 

He Yixun nodded thoughtfully. “So you want to create an explosion.”

Xu Pei nearly rolled his eyes. “Do you ever think of anything besides crime?”

“Unless you can prove your identity,” He Yixun said.

It was, of course, an unsolvable condition from the very start. 

If Xu Pei could prove that the universe wasn’t singular, that multiple parallel realities existed, he would have long since published a paper on it. Why would he be here in this square, relying on sheer luck?

“Aren’t you getting it backwards, Officer He?” Xu Pei didn’t want to go in circles over this issue any longer. “The burden shouldn’t be on me to prove I’m innocent. It should be on you to prove I’m guilty.”

The only connection between Xu Pei and the case was that he had pinpointed the sniper’s location even before the police.

But he had already explained that. As for why he had appeared out of nowhere in the square, since He Yixun didn’t believe his story, the onus should be on He Yixun to provide a reasonable explanation instead. 

Yet He Yixun didn’t take the bait. He simply repeated, “You’re free now,” glanced at his watch, and asked with an indifferent expression, “I take it you have nowhere to go?”

Officer He was truly a terrible actor.

One moment he was suspicious of Xu Pei’s identity, the next he was pretending to be considerate.

Then again, perhaps he wasn’t even trying to act. Maybe he was just humoring Xu Pei to keep his “performance” going. 

Either way, in his heart of hearts, he clearly didn’t believe Xu Pei had crossed over from another world.

But that no longer mattered.

Xu Pei’s top priority now wasn’t convincing others he was from another world. Now that he was free, that was irrelevant. It was figuring out how to survive in this one.

“I really don’t have anywhere to go,” Xu Pei shrugged. “If you won’t help me, I’ll have to sleep on the streets.” 

Both of them knew perfectly well that He Yixun wouldn’t abandon him because he was obsessed with uncovering Xu Pei’s identity.

For Xu Pei, that was actually a good thing. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about ending up homeless.

Perhaps because Xu Pei’s request aligned perfectly with He Yixun’s intentions, the latter said nothing more and simply turned away. “Follow me.”

☆ 

The SUV moved through the empty streets, raindrops not yet dried on the windows reflecting the neon lights on either side, making the city seem both desolate and vibrant.

Rows of buildings formed the city’s unique nightscape. Wherever Xu Pei looked, Binshi Bank, Binshi Fire Department, the recurring “Bin” made the reality of his crossing sink deeper into his bones.

But curiosity about this unfamiliar world couldn’t hold off the overwhelming fatigue crashing down on him. Xu Pei’s eyelids grew heavy, and he was about to lean back and doze off when he felt He Yixun slow down. Opening his eyes, he realized the scenery had shifted to an underground garage.

“Where is this?” Xu Pei straightened up and looked around. 

He Yixun cut the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. “My place.”