Lin Wan didn't sleep.
She lay on top of the sheets with her phone in her hand, staring at Chen Zui's profile until her eyes burned. The photos were loud—neon booths, expensive bottles, careless grins. People tagging him, untagging him, tagging again. He didn't even try to hide. He thought the world was built to forgive him.
Her fiancé had died for that confidence.
Around three in the morning, she opened her notes app and began listing what she knew.
Habits.
Thursday nights. Private rooms. A bar called Night.
Weaknesses.
Attention. Flattery. Alcohol.
Fear.
She had seen it at the hospital. He could barely meet anyone's eyes.
Fear could be used.
Not morally—she no longer had the energy for moral purity—but because using someone's fear meant stepping into something uglier. Once you stepped in, you rarely walked out clean.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Wang Xiao's mother.
Did you eat anything today?
Lin Wan stared at the words until they blurred. She typed, erased, then typed again.
I'm fine. Rest.
She sent it and placed the phone face down.
Then turned it over again.
She searched for a contact she hadn't used in years.
Zhou Yu.
They'd been friends at university—briefly. Not close enough for comfort, but close enough for practicality. Zhou Yu understood nightlife. Understood men. Understood how people behaved when they thought consequences were optional.
Lin Wan hovered over the call button.
She remembered Chen Jin's message.
Stop before this becomes irreversible.
She pictured Wang Xiao's photograph.
She pressed call.
Zhou Yu answered on the second ring.
"Lin Wan?" Suspicion edged her voice.
"I need a favor."
A soft breath. "You always sound too calm when you want something."
"Can you meet tomorrow?"
"Where?"
"Near Night."
A pause.
"Why that place?"
"Because he goes there."
"Who?"
Lin Wan didn't say the name immediately.
"Chen Zui."
Zhou Yu inhaled sharply. "Are you insane?"
"Possibly. Are you free?"
Silence stretched.
"What exactly are you planning?" Zhou Yu asked.
"Nothing illegal," Lin Wan replied evenly. "I need a private room. A waitress who doesn't gossip. And someone who won't interfere."
"That's not 'nothing,'" Zhou Yu said. "That's trouble."
"I'll pay."
"You're not rich."
"I'll still pay."
Another pause. Then:
"Tomorrow. Noon. And don't wear black."
Lin Wan almost smiled. "I wasn't going to."
The café smelled like burnt espresso and damp coats.
Zhou Yu studied Lin Wan across the table.
"You've lost weight."
"I've lost a fiancé."
Zhou Yu didn't respond to that.
"Fine," she said finally. "Tell me what you need."
Lin Wan slid her phone across the table. Chen Zui's photo filled the screen.
"I need him alone," she said. "Clear-headed enough to talk. Unsteady enough to talk."
Zhou Yu's eyes narrowed.
"You're setting him up."
"I'm asking him to tell the truth."
"Same difference."
Lin Wan didn't argue.
Zhou Yu tapped her fingers on the table, thinking.
"No drugs," she said.
"I won't."
"Good. Because if anything happens to him, his brother will erase you."
"He already tried that."
Zhou Yu looked up sharply. "Tried?"
Lin Wan didn't elaborate.
After a moment, Zhou Yu nodded. "I'll get him upstairs. But listen carefully. In that room, you don't attack. You give him safety. Men like him talk when they think they're being forgiven."
"I'm not forgiving him."
"You don't have to," Zhou Yu said. "You just have to make him think you might."
Something cold settled inside Lin Wan.
Apparently she wasn't cold enough yet.
She changed clothes twice before leaving home.
The first outfit made her look invisible. The second made her look too sharp, too deliberate.
She chose a dark red dress—simple, sleeveless. Nothing dramatic. The color did enough. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders. Her makeup was restrained. Calm. Controlled.
When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself.
Good.
Her phone buzzed as she picked up her bag.
Unknown number.
Don't go.
No signature.
She didn't need one.
She didn't reply.
She turned her phone off.
Night in the daylight looked almost ordinary.
Glass. Signage. A bored security guard.
Neon only mattered after dark.
Zhou Yu met her at the side entrance.
"You picked red," Zhou Yu observed.
"It felt honest."
They walked upstairs.
The private rooms lined a narrow hallway. Frosted panels blurred everything inside. Dim light, low tables, expensive attempts to disguise stale smoke.
In one room, Zhou Yu handed her a small black device.
"Voice recorder. Hide it. Don't dramatize it."
Lin Wan pressed the button.
"My name is Lin Wan."
She played it back.
Clear.
That unsettled her more than she expected.
Zhou Yu watched her face.
"You're serious."
"Yes."
"Then listen. I'll bring him up. Rose will handle drinks. You keep it clean."
"I won't involve her."
Zhou Yu gave her a sharp look. "In a story like yours, everyone gets involved."
Then she left.
Lin Wan placed the recorder beneath the edge of the table, tucked against a metal brace. Invisible unless someone knelt and searched.
She waited.
Chen Zui arrived at 10:14 p.m.
Not alone.
Two friends, loud and careless.
Zhou Yu intercepted them downstairs. Lin Wan imagined the conversation—private room, surprise, mystery.
Ten minutes later, footsteps stopped outside.
Zhou Yu opened the door.
"Mr. Chen," she said brightly, "your guest."
Chen Zui stepped in.
His smile faltered.
"Who—?"
"You don't remember me?" Lin Wan asked softly.
Recognition hit.
"Lin Wan."
He said her name carefully, like it might cut him.
One of his friends shifted. "Bro—"
"Shut up," Chen Zui snapped.
Lin Wan gestured to the couch.
"Sit."
He hesitated.
"She's the hospital girl," one friend muttered.
Zhou Yu reappeared smoothly. "Gentlemen, drinks downstairs are complimentary tonight."
Her tone didn't change.
They left.
The door closed.
Now it was just the two of them.
"You shouldn't be here," Chen Zui said.
"Why?"
"Because my brother—"
"He's not here," she interrupted.
He glanced at the door reflexively.
Interesting.
He feared his brother more than her.
"Sit," she repeated.
This time he did.
Rose entered with drinks, placed them down, and left without a word.
Chen Zui stared at the glass.
"You think I'm stupid?"
"I think you drink even when you shouldn't."
He hesitated.
Then he drank.
His shoulders loosened slightly.
"I didn't mean to hit him," he said suddenly.
Lin Wan didn't react.
"You didn't mean to," she repeated.
"I didn't see him. It was raining. The road—"
"You were speeding."
"I wasn't—"
"You were."
Silence.
"Did you brake?" she asked.
"I did."
"You didn't."
"How would you know?"
Because you didn't even slow down.
She didn't say that aloud.
Instead, she said, "Because he died."
The bass from downstairs faded into background noise.
He swallowed.
"I tried."
"Then why does the report say brake malfunction?"
He froze.
He hadn't even read the report closely.
"You don't know what they wrote, do you?" she asked.
"Stop," he muttered.
"Stop what?"
"Stop saying it like that."
"Like what?"
He didn't finish.
Like I killed him.
"I'm not here to scream," she said evenly. "If I wanted that, I would've done it in the corridor again."
"And my brother would've put you back in that bed," he shot back.
"I'm starting to understand him," she replied.
Chen Jin wasn't a man in this situation.
He was a system.
"What do you want?" Chen Zui asked.
She let the silence stretch.
"I want your version," she said. "Not his."
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
"You'll use it."
"Yes."
Honesty unsettled him.
"Tell me you weren't drunk," she said quietly.
He looked down.
"That's not fair."
"Were you drunk?"
A long pause.
"Yes."
"Did you run the turn?"
His throat tightened.
"Yes."
"And you didn't brake."
He shut his eyes.
"I didn't even brake."
The words sounded heavy.
She didn't smile.
She didn't move.
She simply let them exist.
His phone buzzed.
Chen Jin.
He declined the call.
Another useful detail.
"You don't know what you're doing," he said.
"I do."
He stood abruptly, knocking over his drink. The liquid sloshed onto the table.
"You can't use this."
"I can."
No raised voice. No threat.
Just certainty.
He left.
The door shut.
Lin Wan remained still for several seconds.
Then she retrieved the recorder and pressed playback.
Clear.
Every word.
Her hands trembled once.
Then steadied.
She uploaded the file immediately.
Two locations.
Not one.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
Where are you?
She stared at it.
Didn't reply.
She slipped the phone into her bag and walked downstairs.
Rain hit her face as she stepped outside.
Cold.
Sharp.
Real.
She welcomed it.