My Weak Lover Became A Weird Boss - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: A Little Lover? Huh? Whose? Pei Qingshan’s?

“How should I address you?”

“My last name is Tang.”

“Officer Tang.”

“Yes?”

“Can you promise me one thing?” Wen Zhu thought for a long time, seemingly finally compromising. “Please do not tell my spouse about what I am about to say.”

“…”

Tang San suppressed the death-defying urge to glance at the dark glass: “Of course.”

After all, your spouse is right here on the other side…

The veins on Pei Qingshan’s hands, which were braced against the table, bulged violently. His face was expressionless, like a lion with its mane bristling.

The atmosphere in the observation room was frozen solid. It felt like if someone walked in with a hammer right now, they could smash the air into shards. Several officers rubbed their arms, bewildered by the chill.

The one-way glass reflected the man’s lean, deep facial contours. He perfectly fit the public’s definition of a university professor—dignified and elegant. Even as a murder suspect in an interrogation room—especially since the deceased was his own student—he appeared incredibly calm and methodical.

The professor hesitated for a second, as if weighing the gravity of the situation, and let out a sigh: “Actually, that night, I went to Cuilin Yajue.”

“Cuilin Yajue?” Tang San gave the technician a look. The surveillance footage from that night was quickly pulled up, and sure enough, Wen Zhu’s blurry silhouette appeared near one of the buildings.

“What were you doing there?”

If Wen Zhu had traveled from Cuilin Yajue, avoided cameras, reached Zhou Sui’s rented apartment to commit murder, and then returned home, there simply wasn’t enough time.

So, at least he wasn’t the killer. Tang San felt a groundless sense of relief.

“Officer, don’t laugh at me.” A perfectly timed, bitter smile appeared on Wen Zhu’s jade-like face. “I suspected my spouse’s… little lover lived in that neighborhood.”

“Do you have evidence that your spouse’s little lov—” Tang San froze as the words registered. His facial muscles twitched, his mouth hanging open as he stammered, “Li… Little lover?”

Huh? Whose? Pei Qingshan’s?

“Yes,” Wen Zhu sighed. “That night, I originally intended to talk to that young man, but in the end, I lost my courage.”

His skin was a translucent white. In the dark interrogation room, only his watery eyes stood out, with a faint redness of broken capillaries spreading from the corners. He looked broken yet stoic—the kind of sight that made people want to drag his cheating husband out and beat him to a pulp.

In fact, a hot-headed young officer in the observation room couldn’t hold back and said exactly that out loud—only to receive a very peculiar look from the mysterious Commander.

“What is it, Commander?”

“Nothing, it’s fine,” Pei Qingshan said, not wanting to elaborate. “You have a strong sense of justice.”

The intern, suddenly praised by a high-ranking mysterious official: “…(⊙o⊙)”

“So, what did Zhou Sui say in his last call to you?” Tang San rubbed his temples, pulling himself together to continue.

Wen Zhu’s body seemed to stiffen. After a long pause, he sighed: “Actually, he called me that night to confess his love.”

The lie came out effortlessly.

“Confess… love?” Tang San’s mechanical eye almost lost its tracking.

He began to wonder if staying in the military too long had ruined his ability to keep up with the rapidly changing romantic dynamics of the outside world.

“But I am married, so I rejected him.” At this point, the thin professor suddenly covered his mouth, looking up at Tang San with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Wait, could he have…”

Tears seemed to be brewing in his reddened eyes; guilt and regret intertwined in his gaze.

“It likely had nothing to do with the confession; it wasn’t suicide,” Tang San said. Facing such a face, he found himself unable to use his usual harsh interrogation tactics.

Did that guy Pei really find a normal teacher as a spouse? Well, not entirely normal…

“Then how did he die?”

Wen Zhu lowered his gaze. The dim overhead light cast sharp shadows across his brow and nose, tracing a rugged line of light down his neck to his collarbone.

Tang San remained silent.

“He was only twenty…” Wen Zhu made a slight pause here, as if thinking for a split second, but the atmosphere was too tense for anyone to notice. “…one years old. He was about to graduate. How could this happen?”

“Don’t be too sad,” Tang San sighed. “Can you tell us about his social circle?”

“Zhou Sui was a good boy, he loved making friends…”

The university professor’s husky, gentle voice echoed through the interrogation room.

“If it’s convenient, may I help pack his belongings?”

“I’m afraid there are no belongings left to pack,” Tang San shook his head.

In that instant, Wen Zhu’s suspicion was confirmed. Zhou Sui had likely been burned to death as well.

After leaving the police station, Wen Zhu headed straight back toward Cuilin Yajue.

The little snake slithered out from nowhere, winding flexibly around Wen Zhu’s arm and flicking its tongue: “If you’d listened to me, we should have eaten that Hybrid yesterday!”

“Idiot,” Wen Zhu cursed coldly. “Do you think a mere Hybrid could cause such a massive disturbance?”

However, he had clearly arrived a step too late.

A sudden gust of cold wind flipped the curtains. A tall, slender shadow stood on the balcony, staring into the empty room for a long time, sensing the lingering, pungent scent of energy-gun fire.

Thinking of something, Wen Zhu let out a scoff: “After all these years, the Beidou Bureau still hasn’t gone bankrupt?”

“Beidou Bureau of the National Security Council. Please assist in our investigation.”

Just as Liao Xin flashed his ID, the leader who had been missing for a day strode in, sat down heavily in a chair, and asked point-blank:

“What were you merged with?”

“What?” Xie Ci’s beautiful peach-blossom eyes widened in panic as he shrank back. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Pei Qingshan threw a photo onto the table in front of him.

It showed a blackened, ashen, necrotic torso shriveled from dehydration. The skin was baked into hard carbon; the left lower leg was completely carbonized in a “pugilistic” pose. Only the head was relatively less burned, showing mangled features where bright red muscle tissue clung to charred skin like demonic scales.

“A twenty-one-year-old top student in his prime. I’ve seen him—handsome, active, and bright.”

Xie Ci hadn’t even processed the fact that the handsome, wealthy “rich second generation” from yesterday had turned into a police officer, and now he was being hit by this photo and his own crumbling memories.

“I’m still young, I don’t want to die! Xie Ci… Xie Ci, save me! Save me!”

Xie Ci’s breathing suddenly became ragged. He hallucinated the sound of tearing screams in his ears—voices distorted by high heat and fire into low, agonizing wails.

A second photo was pushed in front of him: the scene captured during the explosion of the suburban factory.

Flickering flames exploded like a blood-tongue swallowing everything. His nose was suddenly filled with the nauseating stench of burning human fat.

“Ugh—”

Xie Ci frantically pushed the photos away, doubling over to one side and retching. Pei Qingshan caught Liao Xin’s eye, and the latter immediately understood, placing a glass of water in front of Xie Ci.

“It wasn’t me, no… it wasn’t me, it wasn’t my fault!” Xie Ci clutched the glass with trembling hands, shaking his head repeatedly. “It wasn’t my fault, it had nothing to do with me…”

“Then why did they die?” Pei Qingshan watched the crumbling beauty unmoved. “They were good to you when you worked at the factory, weren’t they? Chen Jiajun, Wang Yaoyao, Li Guangdong…”

Xie Ci finally looked up from the chaos, whispering, “How are they?”

“The burns were too severe. One died from inhaling too much chemical smoke.”

Xie Ci’s face turned deathly pale. He buried his head in his arms: “It’s all me… I shouldn’t have run, I shouldn’t have run. I can never escape. They’ll find me even if I’m dead!”

“What are you running from?” Pei Qingshan seized the point. “Who is chasing you?”

“I can’t get away…” Xie Ci looked up vacantly, his face calm, but his breathing became faster and faster, as if someone were strangling him. “I can’t get away.”

Pei Qingshan stood up, grabbed Xie Ci’s chin, and shouted: “Xie Ci! Look where you are! You are safe now! Don’t let those who died for you die for nothing!”

Adjutant Liao was about to step forward to pull Pei Qingshan’s hand away—intending to remind him that there were cameras and he needed to follow proper procedure—when he froze upon hearing that last sentence.

Xie Ci snapped out of his trance, tears streaming down his face as he wailed in agony. The men in the room waited until he finished crying before Liao Xin handed him a tissue.

Before long, a raspy voice echoed in the quiet room:

“When I was very young, I was locked in a room with only red lights and a monster. One day, that monster bit my throat.”

“When I woke up, I had become something neither human nor ghost.”

“That thing looked… like a fox,” Xie Ci said, reluctant to recall it. He looked up timidly, then froze.

The others, hearing it was a fox, had an “it’s no wonder he’s so pretty” look on their faces. But Pei Qingshan was surprised: “A fox?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Xie Ci gritted his teeth. What a humiliation!

“Sorry, he’s a bit blind,” Liao Xin immediately consoled him.

Xie Ci thought of something: “He’s not blind. The man who came looking for him that day—I admit, he looked more like a fox spirit than I do.”

“Don’t compare him to you,” Pei Qingshan frowned.

Xie Ci sneered and continued: “I used to complain that life was unfair, wondering why I had to endure this alone. Until the day my fox tail grew out, and I was taken to ‘Paradise Lost’.”

“I finally realized I wasn’t alone. There are countless versions of me in ‘Paradise Lost.’ Noah is the new god of creation.”

Liao Xin gasped: “Paradise Lost?”

“The legend of Adam and Eve being tempted by the serpent possessed by Satan to eat the forbidden fruit and being expelled—the Book of Genesis,” Pei Qingshan squinted, testing him. “So, you were exiled?”

“No,” Xie Ci lowered his eyes. “‘Paradise Lost’ is the new world. I was chosen by God.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have tried so hard to escape.”

The light in Xie Ci’s eyes flickered obscurely.

According to Xie Ci’s testimony, “Paradise Lost” was an auction house for Hybrids. The boss was named Noah, a high-level Aberrant stationed in a front-line war zone. Generally, these places had no borders; they were hotbeds of crime and desire where Aberrants were common and order was nonexistent.

The auction house specialized in selling non-aggressive, “ornamental” Hybrids like Xie Ci to the wealthy and powerful—the clientele included both humans and Aberrants.

“One last question.” Pei Qingshan’s finger tapped the table as he scanned Xie Ci’s profile. “You don’t seem to have the typical characteristics of a Hybrid.”

Xie Ci paused, then raised an eyebrow. He carelessly brushed aside a few strands of soft hair on the left side of his head, revealing a hideous, jagged scar hidden in his hairline. “I cut them off myself. I also had someone make some adjustments to this face. Does the Commander want the number of my plastic surgery clinic?”

Hearing this, everyone closed their mouths in pity. Imagine—a young man forced down such a miserable path, so determined to save himself that he cut off his own ears. No one could find the heart to be cold now…

“Give me the number,” Pei Qingshan nodded. He paused, then added, “Give me the doctor’s direct line.”

“…”