"Yes, I need to report a crime." The moment that calm, authoritative voice came through the line, Shu felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry.
But there was no time for tears.
Crying was useless. Crying would make him even more useless.
"Home invasion burglary. This afternoon... the specific time was—" He ruthlessly suppressed the knot of despair in his throat and glanced at the call timer on his screen.
"Approximately forty minutes ago. The lock was forced. The living room shows clear signs of a struggle... The stolen item is a cat. It has no purchase price, but I have bank transfer records for its vet checkups and registration.
"I can provide photographic evidence of the damaged lock. This meets the legal standard to open a home invasion burglary case."
The police officer on the other end was clearly bewildered.
There was a rustling sound over the line, likely the officer shifting in his chair in surprise.
A moment later, his voice returned, far more serious than before.
"Sir, you said you are not at the scene, correct?"
"Correct. I have left the scene and am attempting to pursue the suspect. He has fled in a vehicle. I have security footage of him passing by a store.
"My current location is..." He reported his precise coordinates, every detail accurate.
The officer seemed taken aback by Shu's concise and accurate report. His own speech quickened.
"Sir, for a home invasion case, you need to come to the precinct to give a formal statement. We can only open a case file after that. Once the case is filed, we can then submit the official paperwork to the command center to request access to traffic camera footage... Are you able to come over now?"
A brief, heavy silence hung between them.
Shu took a deep, shuddering breath and gave his refusal.
"From my current location to your precinct, it's about a twenty-minute drive with no traffic.
"Giving a statement—from the moment I walk in the door, repeat everything I just told you, wait for you to type it up, and then review and sign it—will take forty minutes, absolute best-case scenario.
"Then there's the case approval process, getting a superior's signature and official seal, and issuing the paperwork... By the time I have that document in my hand, that bastard will have been gone for nearly two hours."
The officer was silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was heavy with genuine helplessness.
"...I understand how you feel, sir, but this is standard procedure. Without a case file, the command center cannot grant access to surveillance footage for a civilian."
Shu silently opened his photo gallery, selected the video file the convenience store owner had sent him, and forwarded it to the precinct's official WeChat account.
Then, he took a screenshot of the video, freezing the frame on the suspect's profile, and sent that as well.
"I've sent the video. Open it and watch it now." His words began to pour out, faster and faster, delivered with the clipped, robotic precision of a news anchor.
"Suspect is male, estimated height between 170 and 175 centimeters. Stride is approximately one-third shorter than an average adult male. Knees and ankles remain in a pre-flexed state while walking—this is an alert gait, prepared to change speed at any moment.
"Shoulders are rolled forward, collarbones are drawn inward, the entire ribcage is contracted. This is a form of body memory only trained into individuals who have spent long periods under intense scrutiny.
"Note the angle of his head. The line from the brim of his hood to his collarbone is consistently maintained within a fifteen-degree angle. This angle is perfect for concealing everything above his brow while allowing his peripheral vision to cover a two-meter fan-shaped area on the ground... He never once looked up."
On the other end of the line, Shu heard a series of sharp hisses, followed by the faint sound of a keyboard being pushed aside.
But Shu was still talking, his analysis a relentless barrage.
"Look at the hand carrying the bag. The handle is looped around the base of his palm and then locked in place by the knuckles of his index and middle fingers.
"A normal person carrying a heavy object would simply make a fist. He made that extra loop because the weight inside the bag exceeded what he could securely grip with one hand. He's using his wrist joint to distribute part of the load.
"Look at the joints of his index and middle fingers. Zoom in on the image. Can you see it? There's a very faint back-and-forth friction mark, right?
"That's from the handle digging into his fingers, causing localized ischemia and triggering a peripheral nerve stress response. But he still never switched hands.
"His other hand is buried in the front pocket of his hoodie. From the way the fabric drapes, you can tell his forearm and hand are clenched into a fist inside, can't you?
"That's a preparatory stance for a physical confrontation, you know that right? From the moment he left my apartment to the moment he got in that van, he was mentally prepared to use that hand to push something—or someone—out of his way! Do you understand? Can you see it?"
"Do I really need to—"
Shu's voice cut off abruptly. He panted for breath, stopping his own tirade.
In that storm of analysis, he himself was the one who had come closest to losing control.
The silence on the other end lasted for three long seconds. Then, an older, deeper voice cut into the call.
"This is Deputy Chief Wang, I'm on duty... I've seen the video. Your analysis is very accurate. You may continue."
"I'm done... The car and the man, they're both in the video." The tension in Shu's body suddenly snapped. He raised a hand to cover his eyes, taking huge, gulping breaths.
Deputy Chief Wang didn't follow up on that thread.
Instead, he asked a question that seemed to have nothing to do with the chase.
"What did you do for a living before? That's not the kind of analysis an ordinary person can make."
The fine trembling in Shu's body stopped.
Self-taught psychology?
Watched a lot of crime dramas?
A lucky guess?
The answers lined up on the tip of his tongue. Each one was clean, plausible. Each one would steer the conversation away from places he didn't want to go.
He held them in his mouth for a moment. Then, he swallowed them all.
"A patient." His voice grew soft, almost inaudible on that single word.
"A psychiatric patient."
There was no sound from the other end. Deputy Chief Wang offered no filler words, no social lubricant to smooth the awkward transition.
He was just silent.
The silence stretched on for longer than Shu had held those lies in his mouth.
"That cat..." he finally said, his voice still firm, without a trace of the gentle condescension one might use with a mental patient.
"It's more than just a cat to you, isn't it?"
——
"Shu."
"Hm?"
"Who do you think it looks like?"
Shu looked at the cat.
White.
Heterochromatic eyes.
Clingy to Kiana.
He thought for a moment.
"Like you."
——
"Shu."
"Hm?"
"Do you think Rice Cake will get used to it?"
"What?"
"Living with us." Kiana looked down at the cat in her arms. "This is probably the first time it's ever been kept as a pet... Do you think it will try to run away?"
Shu thought for a moment.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're here."
Kiana blinked.
Then she smiled.
"You're right!"
——
With nimble grace, Rice Cake leaped over Shu's hand and burrowed into his chest, rubbing its head against his sternum. Then, from the folds of his shirt, it deftly pulled out a small, reflective object.
Shu's gaze froze.
It was a coin... worn with age, yet polished to a high shine from being carried everywhere.
A coin... Shu didn't know why he had a coin on him... Had he forgotten?
Whatever the reason, when Rice Cake gently placed that coin in the center of his palm, Shu's dead heart finally gave a single, solid beat.
"Meow~"
Human.
If you ever find yourself facing a difficult choice...
Then just trust in the lucky coin.
I'll be with you, no matter which ending you choose.
——
"...Its name is Rice Cake."
"Yes. I understand."