Chapter 5

After leaving the police station, Owen pulled the lawyer aside to discuss matters privately.

Yan Su and Zhen Ai stood side by side at the roadside, gazing at the tire tracks in the snow, neither of them speaking.

Yan Su remained straight-legged, hands tucked in his trench coat pockets, with the cold night wind howling around him, maintaining an upright posture like a tree.

Zhen Ai, on the other hand, huddled into herself, shivering from the cold, occasionally glancing at him.

The winter nights in the Northern Hemisphere arrived early, and in the dusk, his profile looked increasingly pale, with sharply defined features, like it had been chiseled. He had a full forehead and deep-set eyes.

His eyes were striking, calm yet seemingly rippling with a sense of depth, reflecting the neon lights across the street, sparkling brightly. His nose had a perfect ridge, his thin lips pressed together, and the line of his jaw was clean and sharp, reminiscent of the Western plaster models she had seen as a child.

He was completely unaware of Zhen Ai's gaze, staring intently across the street, a subtle smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as if he had seen something amusing.

Zhen Ai followed his line of sight but saw nothing. She turned back to him, trying to guess what he was looking at.

Suddenly, he lowered his eyes, sensing her gaze, and slowly turned to look at her. His eyes, tinted deep brown by the night, seemed both profound and light. They were as clear as the snow on a moonlit night, appearing pure yet deep.

He gazed at her quietly, as if asking: What are you looking at?

Caught off guard, Zhen Ai awkwardly tugged at her lips and asked, "What are you looking at?"

"That billboard is quite interesting." He tilted his chin toward the opposite direction.

Zhen Ai then realized he was looking at Walmart's outdoor advertisement, which advertised sales— 

"O GEE! ON SALE! MAR. 1ST

ALL @ N.Y.T

Oh dear, big discounts, March 1st at N.Y.T."

N.Y.T was the abbreviation for North Yearfield Township, the city they were in.

The billboard featured bright yellow oranges; such a sunny color was lovely in winter, but she didn't see what was interesting about it.

He kept watching, and noticing her lack of response, he explained, "That string of text is quite intriguing."

This explanation hardly helped…

His world was truly hard to understand.

Zhen Ai was completely at a loss for words.

Seeing her silent, Yan Su pursed his lips, looked at her for a few seconds, and asked, "Have you ever played the anagram game?"

Zhen Ai looked up, puzzled.

She knew that an anagram involved rearranging the letters in a word or sentence to form new words or sentences, but she didn't see how that related to what they had just talked about.

"Does it take you four or five seconds to think of this kind of question?" Yan Su turned his head to gaze into the distance, commenting lightly, "Your reaction speed is astonishingly slow."

Zhen Ai pressed her lips together: "I've never played, but I've heard of it."

Yan Su slightly turned to face her and began asking questions: "For example, what can 'eat' be rearranged into?"

Zhen Ai was caught off guard by his sudden question and after a moment, replied, "Tea!"

"Slow response!" He didn't hide his disdain, continuing, "Lived."

"Devil."

"Hmm, not bad." Yan Su lowered his head, asking, "Want to keep playing?"

She had never played any kind of game before; this one, which tested visual memory, spatial imagination, and reaction speed, was new to her, and she nodded.

He looked at her, his voice suddenly softening: "Are you ready?"

This made Zhen Ai's heart race inexplicably, as if she were a contestant in a quiz competition: "I'm ready!"

"When listening to someone speak, it's best to stay quiet because…"

"Because 'listen' rearranged is 'silent'!" Zhen Ai immediately answered, having already figured out the word he was going to say; this one wasn't difficult.

"When attending a funeral, don't be too sad. Why?"

"Funeral, that's…" Zhen Ai's eyes brightened, "Real fun!"

"Why are daughters-in-law often afraid of their mothers-in-law?"

"Mothers-in-law are 'mother-in-law.'" She furrowed her brows, thinking, then quietly asked, "Because she's a woman Hitler?"

"Exactly." Yan Su seemed pleased with her speed and cooperation, appearing unusually lighthearted. "Last one: why do so many people like Tom Cruise?"

Tom Cruise? His name could be rearranged to…

Zhen Ai bit her lip, a light bulb going off in her head, "Ah! So I'm cuter!"

Yan Su raised an eyebrow, half-smiling, "Do you really think so?"

Zhen Ai was stunned; was he being serious or teasing?

A strange warmth spread across her cheeks as she looked down and said, "I meant his name can be rearranged to 'I'm the cutest,' not about myself."

Yan Su playfully responded with an "Oh," then looked back at the colorful words on the Walmart promotional billboard: "Then why don't you try rearranging the letters in that sentence?"

O! GEE! ON SALE! MAR. 1ST

ALL @ N.Y.T

There were a total of 21 letters in that sentence. How could they be distributed into independent words, with exactly no extra or missing letters, while the rearranged words formed a grammatically correct and meaningful sentence?

Zhen Ai focused intently on the colorful words on the billboard, and in an instant, the letters seemed to dance in her mind, each jumping out to form—sea, rest, moon, rang, year, tale, or, tally, total…none of it was right.

No matter which word appeared, the remaining letters couldn't form meaningful words, let alone a complete sentence.

What could the sentence possibly be?

Zhen Ai clenched her fists unconsciously and suddenly saw the large oranges on the billboard—orange?

In a flash, she understood, and all the English words spun around, rearranging themselves into a sentence—

"An ET stole all my oranges!"

"A space alien stole all my oranges." The pile of bright yellow promotional oranges on the billboard was about to be stolen by aliens, ha!

She couldn't help but smile knowingly; yes, Yan Su was right, that advertisement was quite interesting.

So this was how he was, immersing himself in a world full of creativity and thought?

People like him were truly fascinating.

"The game is over," Yan Su said lightly, his gaze drifting to other outdoor billboards with advertisements and contact numbers.

Zhen Ai looked at him, still feeling a sense of longing from their earlier interaction. He had returned to his usual cold demeanor, as if their brief exchange about the anagram game had never happened. Perhaps in his world, there was only data, codes, and behavioral analysis—only these could spark his interest in conversation.

Taking a deep breath, which felt cold and chilly, she pondered for a moment and finally asked, "Do you suspect me in today's case?"

At that moment, Yan Su was busy trying to decode a string of phone numbers in his line of sight. He slowly turned to her and replied, "No."

Zhen Ai's "thank you" was barely half-formed when he continued, "I only believe in objectivity. 'Doubt' is a subjective emotion, which is a taboo for rational people."

Zhen Ai then rephrased her question: "Does objectivity suggest that I am the murderer?"

Yan Su replied in a formulaic manner, "There is insufficient objective evidence." He added, "However, I think if you were to kill someone, you would choose a more elegant method, like poisoning. Of course, you wouldn't choose a poison that's easy to buy; instead, it would be something rare yet torturous."

Zhen Ai replied, "…Should I say thank you?"

Yan Su responded, "No need."

Zhen Ai fell silent, staring blankly into space. At one point, it seemed as if a tiny snowflake floated by. She focused, but there was nothing. Looking up, the sky was still pitch black.

It turned out that the snowflake was just an illusion.

The cold wind blew, making it even colder.

Her teeth began to chatter, and she couldn't help but make a noise. She immediately clenched her jaw to avoid any further sound.

Yan Su had certainly heard her chattering teeth. He looked down at her and asked, "Are you cold?"

"Mm."

He acknowledged with a "Oh," then continued gazing at the numbers on the lightbox. After a long pause, as if speaking to someone else, he said, "From a traditional Chinese medicine perspective, being afraid of the cold is due to kidney yang deficiency; from a Western medical perspective, it's due to iron deficiency, leading to insufficient thyroid hormone…"

Noticing her pale face and wide eyes, he stopped, then said, "It seems I shouldn't be discussing this now."

After a brief silence, he looked up at the sky again and after two seconds added, "What I really meant is that you should go see a doctor."

"…"

Who would irrationally go to the hospital just because they felt cold?

As Zhen Ai was left speechless, warmth suddenly enveloped her from behind. In the next moment, she found herself wrapped in a warm coat. Owen had walked over and draped his trench coat over her.

Seeing that he was only wearing a thin sweater underneath, she tried to pull away, but he held the collar in place and quickly buttoned it up. In just a few seconds, he secured all the buttons, wrapping Zhen Ai tightly like a little dumpling.

He patted her shoulder casually, smiling, "I'm good at generating warmth; I'm not afraid of the cold." As he spoke, the warm breath he exhaled was scattered by the wind like cotton.

Zhen Ai didn't resist anymore and walked with Owen toward the parking area.

After a few steps, she noticed Yan Su hadn't followed. The two turned back in confusion to see Yan Su standing straight, furrowing his brow, deep in thought as he looked at Zhen Ai.

Suddenly, he strode over with long strides, taking off his scarf as he walked. In just a few steps, he stood before her, wrapping the thick scarf around her neck.

The action was so sudden that Zhen Ai didn't react in time; she instantly felt warmth around her neck. It wasn't until he started wrapping a second loop that she came to her senses and instinctively recoiled.

"No need."

"Don't move."

His voice was low and commanding, his long, pale fingers gently tugged the scarf, pulling her back toward him.

She almost stumbled into his arms, barely steadying herself, while he remained focused on wrapping the thick gray scarf around her neck.

The scarf was soft and comfortable, snugly fitting against her, radiating warmth from his body, accompanied by a subtle scent she had never encountered—like the sky at the transition from late summer to early autumn, gentle and mellow.

Zhen Ai felt warm now, looking up at him. He wore a serious expression, slightly furrowing his brow, as if facing a series of numbers, codes, or logical problems.

This ambiguous gesture, done with such grace and elegance, carried no hint of intimacy; his gaze was pure and aloof, just like him.

Moved by his unblemished demeanor, Zhen Ai smiled faintly, no longer feeling awkward or flushed, naturally accepting his kindness.

Once Yan Su finished wrapping the scarf around her, he nodded, seemingly satisfied, then placed his hand on her shoulder and awkwardly patted it, saying in a proper manner, "I'm also good at generating warmth; I'm not afraid of the cold."

Zhen Ai thought: …

He's trying to learn how to be nice like Owen…

In that moment, she felt he resembled some kind of primate imitating human behavior, or a baby learning from adults during a cognitive phase.

Once again at a loss for words, she thought for a moment, ready to say thank you, but—

Yan Su glanced at her and calmly remarked, "But you don't suit gray; it looks terrible on you, like a dried stick insect."

He really compared her to a stick insect? Zhen Ai lost all inclination to express her gratitude.

Owen, walking beside them, suggested, "Brightly colored scarves are popular lately; with your fair skin, a red one would definitely look good."

Hearing this, Yan Su let out a barely audible "heh."

Owen turned to see Yan Su's eyebrows raised, asking, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Owen, a bit baffled, asked, "Let me guess, where did your strange imagination wander off to this time? Does red make you think of something? A cow?"

Yan Su looked at him with disdain, "Cows are colorblind; associating red with cows isn't scientific."

Owen was speechless but after a pause couldn't help asking, "Then what did you think of?"

"Adrenaline."

…

Now that wasn't scientific!!!