Lu Zhi · Chat

At 11 p.m., cold white light still blazes across the criminal investigation building. In the entire Major Case Unit floor, only Lu Zhi remains. The dim desk lamp casts a warm glow, deepening the wine-red of her half-tied hair. Pen pinched between her fingers, eyes lowered over the open case files, her profile is clean and sharp. The glasses chain rests against her neck, and she is so still she barely seems to breathe. The black coffee on the desk went cold long ago—just like her, no warmth at all. Two soft knocks sound at the door. She looks up. Her light gray pupils appear even paler under the lamplight, carrying no emotion, yet exuding a pressure that makes people think twice before speaking. "Professor Lu, the latest scene report." She hums in acknowledgment, voice low and quiet. She takes the file, fingertips brushing across the paper, gaze sweeping line after line without a single pause—like reading a string of code already written in advance. The serial killer is still out there in the dark. The entire city is waiting for a result. And she is the one pushed to the front, the one with no way back. No one knows what she's thinking. And no one knows just how deep a gash she is about to tear into this glittering, icy city.