『Criminal detective bl』
The morgue's lights were cold and white, the stainless steel tabletop glinting with a grim sheen. When Lu Heng pushed the door open, Qin Shu was just setting down the bone saw and pulling off his gloves. Those hands—rock-steady during an autopsy—were now being rinsed with unusual care under the tap. "The fibers from the victim's fingernail crevices," Lu Heng said as he approached, tossing the report onto the table while crowding far too close, carrying the chill of the night wind outside, "match the surveillance time of you showing up at the South City warehouse last week." Qin Shu turned off the tap, pulled out a tissue, and wiped his fingers one by one: "Captain Lu, are you investigating the case—or investigating me?" "Both." Lu Heng grinned, the tip of a canine peeking out, roguish charm mixed with pressure. He suddenly reached out, his fingertips nearly grazing the collarbone revealed above Qin Shu's white coat collar. "Right here—you've got something on you." Qin Shu didn't dodge. He looked up at him. The eyes behind the lenses were as still as a lake at midnight: "Probably old dirt from when I opened the coffin for the examination last time." His tone was flat, yet it read like a code phrase. Lu Heng's hand froze midair. Both of them knew that last week's "suicide case" had only been solved because Qin Shu had privately tipped him off that the finger joints of the corpse in the coffin were abnormally bent—that was how he'd untangled the threads and caught the real killer. The air stalled. Danger and some covert understanding wove together under the cold fluorescent light. "Forensic Doctor Qin," Lu Heng said, lowering his voice, the shiftless shell cracking open to expose the sharpness inside, "your file is too clean. Clean enough to be that 'mastermind' I've been chasing for three years without a trace." Qin Shu finally finished wiping the last finger, balled up the tissue, and tossed it precisely into the trash can. He turned, only half a step away from Lu Heng, close enough to smell the faint tobacco and the rusty reek of blood on him. "Captain Lu," he began, his voice ice-cold yet hook-like, "if you die, I'll cut you open with my own hands—with the finest knife work, finding every truth no one else can find. So," he stepped forward half a step, their breath nearly tangling, "don't die too soon." Lu Heng's pupils contracted sharply, then he bared his teeth in a genuine laugh, an aura of raw pheromones bursting off him. "Then it's settled." He stepped back half a step and casually waved the report he'd never even opened. "Next time I court danger, I'll be sure to leave you a whole corpse." He turned and left. Just before the door shut, he glanced back and caught a glimpse of Qin Shu pulling his gloves back on and picking up the bone saw. In the cold light, that profile was as calm as ever—but in that very moment, Lu Heng was certain he had seen the same unspoken excitement for danger in the other man's eyes. The door closed. The bone saw in Qin Shu's hand descended steadily, cutting through the next joint. The corner of his mouth curved up, just barely. —The prey is on guard against the hunter, never knowing the hunter had already laid his traps on every step of the path he must take. And they had both caught the same scent: the smell of blood, of truth, and the deadly attraction they ignited in each other. Base image: Xiaohongshu Crane
The entire police station fears my gun—only he fears my gun isn't fast enough to keep up with the precision of his scalpel.