Jiang Shiyuan · Conversa

You stand before the half-open office door of the Criminal Investigation Detachment, your fingertips pinching a transfer order stamped with the bright red seal of the Municipal Bureau. In the enclosed air of the corridor, the bitterness of overnight cold brew coffee mixes with the residual toner scent of the printer. The warm yellow overhead lights spill through the door crack, accompanied by the low, tense sounds of a case review. Your phone still holds the raspy instructions from the detachment leader, carrying the fatigue of an all-nighter: "Go straight in when you arrive, no need to knock. All four of them are there." You raise your hand and gently push the door open. The sudden cessation of fragmented voices and the clicking of keyboards makes the air instantly stagnate. Inside, four men sit in various postures. Simultaneously, four completely different gazes fall upon you at the doorway. Standing directly in front of the whiteboard is Tan Xizhe. His slender fingers hold a black marker, the tip suspended in mid-air against the board, where the ink of unfinished case notes seems to sag slightly. His cold, nearly translucent profile is covered in a layer of restrained chilliness. Those narrow phoenix eyes sweep over the transfer order in your hand, his scrutiny as sharp as a crime scene examination. After a pause of less than half a second, he briskly caps the pen and lets his hand fall. His voice is low and flat, betraying no emotion, merely confirming a set fact: "The new one?" The second hand of the worn, dark tactical watch on his left wrist ticks at a steady pace—the only sound in the deathly silence, steady and restrained. At a nearby workstation, Pei Shu sits upright at his desk, which is spread with neatly stacked case files. The half-rim glasses on the bridge of his nose, reinforced with black tape, make his eyes seem even more cold and indifferent. His hazel pupils don't offer a direct stare, but rather act like a high-speed processor, instantly capturing and reading all your physical and behavioral information. After his gaze lingers for two seconds, it returns to the paper as if nothing happened, and he continues flipping through the materials. A cigarette remains unlit between his lips, marked with neat teeth indentations. He habitually holds a black ballpoint pen between his fingers, radiating the cool detachment unique to a profiler. Across the conference table, Jiang Shiyuan is slumped lazily in his chair, long legs crossed casually on the edge of the table in a defiant posture. The cigarette dangling between his lips is moved from the left corner of his mouth to the right. The faint mole on his brow bone twitches slightly with his raised eyebrow, his eyes filled with youthful lethargy and a hint of playful curiosity. His tone is loose and smiling, nonchalantly breaking the silence: "Yo, they actually air-dropped a rookie." Beneath the relaxed surface hides the sharp alertness of a criminal investigator. In the shadows by the window, Zhou Xiaozhen leans half-against the cold window frame. His fingertips repeatedly open and close a vintage silver lighter, the crisp click sounding exceptionally clear in the dead silent office. A pair of black half-rim sunglasses is pushed up over his forehead, masking his emotions and revealing only his sharp, clean jawline. He gives you a faint glance, turns his head to peek at the sky outside, and then slowly retracts his gaze. A smile that is hard to distinguish as real or fake curls at the corner of his mouth, his tone flat and distant: "New colleague? A pleasure." In the two seconds of dead silence, the four men's scrutiny, testing, and tacit acceptance intertwine and spread. Tan Xizhe tilts his chin up, his tone crisp and decisive, carrying the authority unique to a captain: "Order." You step forward and place the smoothed-out transfer order lightly on the case file atop the desk. He doesn't reach out to pick it up. He only extends an index finger, his clear-jointed fingertip lightly tapping the official seal and text on the paper. He looks up at you again, the coldness in his eyes fading from the initial scrutiny into a few degrees of impartial recognition. "Fine." A single word, concise and powerful, finalizing all arrangements. "Since you've reported for duty, take a seat." As the words fall, he unscrews the pen cap, pointing the tip directly at the case file photo at the top of the whiteboard, and says in a deep voice: "First, we review the backlog of cold cases. Pei Shu, report on the case details." The four of them instantly shed their idle postures, quickly returning to their positions and entering work mode. Tan Xizhe looks down to examine the case details on the whiteboard, his presence grounding the room; Pei Shu flips through the files, ready to output precise profiling and data; Jiang Shiyuan retracts his lazy stance, his long legs hitting the floor as he sits upright; Zhou Xiaozhen puts away his lighter, stuffs it into his pocket, and straightens his lanky frame. You reach out to pull back the only empty chair by the table. The moment you sit down, you feel a faint residual warmth on the seat. The detachment leader wasn't lying. This elite, all-ace Jincheng criminal investigation team never slacks off, confronting crime and the truth day and night. And you have officially entered the game. You look at the case; it is the child trafficking case you had heard rumors about when you were with the West District Detachment. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Listen carefully to Pei Shu's analysis of the case</choice> <choice id="2">Present your views on the case</choice> <choice id="3">Act freely</choice> </choice_group>