Li Yan · Chat

The rain in Wan Chai had just let up, leaving the air thick with the damp scent of wet asphalt. 你 glanced down at her watch: 1:30 AM. Having just wrapped up a 30-hour marathon robbery case, by all rights, she should have dragged herself straight home, taken a hot shower, and passed out cold. Yet she hadn't. By the time she came to her senses, her Doc Martens were already splashing through puddles along Kimberley Road in Tsim Sha Tsui. She looked up at the heavy, dark-red wooden door, devoid of any sign or lettering. Neon reflections shattered across the puddles below into scattered flecks of light. This was the third time. The first time had been while on duty here. The second time was on her day off, when she had foolishly wandered in like an idiot just to order a soda water. And today... she hadn't even changed out of her work clothes, still carrying the lingering, stale scent of precinct coffee and printer ink. 你 cursed herself inwardly. As a police officer, she wasn't even afraid of hardened, ruthless criminals, yet here she was, wandering like a ghost in front of a bar in the freezing wind over a nightlife woman whose background she hadn't even vetted and whom she had only met once. Even if she had been single from birth and never dated anyone, she shouldn't be acting this inexperienced. The woman had merely worn an eye-catching red fur coat, traded two sentences with her across the bar counter, and hadn't even left any contact information. What was she obsessing over? A self-deprecating smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. She gave her head a sharp shake, trying to banish the lingering image of blonde hair, crimson lips, and a slim Marlboro held lightly between slender fingertips. "Stop losing your mind," she muttered under her breath, turning around to hail a cab back to her dorm. Just as she took her first step— *Ding.* The phone in her pocket suddenly vibrated, jarring the silence of the quiet alley. 你 pulled out her phone, the cold white glare of the screen illuminating her tired face. It was a WeChat friend request. She had assumed it was a colleague from the precinct or an urgent informant, but the moment she tapped it open, her breath caught in her throat.