Apparently the nickname had originated on the day Jiang Hansheng first visited the Firearms Suppression Unit, when he had shown up wearing a wine-red suit.
Zhou Jin could picture him clearly enough — those refined, clean-cut features, that composed, unhurried air. Though on at least one count, he differed from a rose — Jiang Hansheng’s personality had no thorns to speak of.
Yu Dan laughed. “It’s mostly because of the looks. If my husband showed up in the same outfit, ‘Little Rose’? More like ‘Little Grey Mouse,’ if you ask me.”
Zhou Jin couldn’t help it — she broke into a smile.
For all the ribbing Yu Dan directed at her own husband, the depths of her eyes brimmed with a fond, indulgent tenderness. Even the fine lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled with warmth as she laughed.
Just then, Xiao Yang, who had been in the monitoring room going through footage, came sprinting in and called over to Zhou Jin and Yu Dan: “Ladies — come quick, we — we finally found it!”
The monitoring room computers cast a faint, blue-tinged glow.
On the screen, a woman came tottering out of a hotel on high heels. She was tall, her short skirt just barely covering the fullness of her hips, with two long pale legs beneath. From her clothing and facial features, this woman was unmistakably the victim in their case. But unlike the cold stillness of a body, she was vivid and radiant here — even the way she walked was full of an easy, languid allure.
She waited at the hotel entrance for roughly ten minutes before getting into a taxi and driving out of frame.
The timestamp read 22:00 on the night of July 23rd.
According to the forensic autopsy report, the victim had been killed in the early hours of the 24th.
In other words: for some reason, this woman had left the hotel late at night, taken a taxi to the area near the Tonghe riverbank, where she had been shot and killed, and her body thrown into the river.
One week prior — on July 27th — the body had been carried downstream by the current to the riverbank, where a group of fishing enthusiasts discovered it by chance and immediately called the police.
The victim had been carrying no identification, and no missing persons report had been filed within the jurisdiction.
Establishing her identity was the first and most pressing obstacle.
“I tracked down the taxi driver using the license plate number,” Xiao Yang said. “According to his recollection, that night he dropped the victim off at the Tonghe riverbank from the Shangyue Hotel and drove away — he didn’t notice anyone suspicious before or after.”
“Good work. Get him in this afternoon for a formal statement — we’ll need the details of that night.” Zhou Jin gave his shoulder a pat. “Send me the Shangyue Hotel’s address.”
Xiao Yang: “Will do.”
Zhou Jin called over another colleague and was just reaching for the car keys to head over to the Shangyue Hotel when the conference room door opened and people began filing out, talking among themselves.
Jiang Hansheng and Tan Shiming came out last, chatting together with some ease.
“…You’re far more familiar with that side of things than we are — saves us a great deal of trouble.” Tan Shiming’s thick dark brows arched up, his expression more animated than usual.
Jiang Hansheng just smiled and inclined his head slightly — attentive, respectful, genuinely listening.
At the sound of Zhou Jin’s voice, Jiang Hansheng looked up and spotted her standing by the doorway with another man.
The man casually uncapped a fresh bottle of mineral water and handed it to Zhou Jin, then lifted two compact umbrellas off the rack by the door.
He said, “Driving there will take over two hours.”
Zhou Jin shifted her weight, her short hair tucked behind one ear, the pale, clean line of her neck exposed. She took a sip of the water without breaking stride, and at the weight in his voice, a faint smile lifted the corner of her eyes. “Didn’t sleep well last night, did you? Get in and nap — I’ll drive.”
“Zhou Jin.”
His voice was clear and distinct. For a brief moment, Zhou Jin had the distinct sensation that every eye in the room had turned toward her back — sharp, like needles.
Zhou Jin saw it was Jiang Hansheng and walked over to him.
Tan Shiming blinked, something clicking into place. “Oh — so what’s the story, you two know each other?”
Jiang Hansheng moved to Zhou Jin’s side with an unhurried ease, only his dark eyes carrying any particular expression.
Zhou Jin felt the weight of his arm settle lightly around her shoulders — and then she heard it, spoken with the most natural smile in the world: “My wife.”
Half of her was enclosed in the easy warmth of his embrace — proper, understated, as intimate gestures go — and something in her chest gave a quiet, startled flutter. Then the ripple of surprised sounds from around them reached her ears.
Zhou Jin: “…………”
Who was it, exactly, who had just said his personality had no thorns?
……
The rain was still falling. The windshield wipers swept back and forth, clearing the blurred streaks of water from the glass at steady intervals.
Jiang Hansheng had his eyes on the road, driving with focused concentration. The cuffs of his black shirt were rolled back, revealing a stretch of forearm. Compared to the composed formality he’d carried in the Major Crimes Unit, there was something noticeably more relaxed about him here, in front of Zhou Jin.
He had told Tan Shiming he’d like to speak with Zhou Jin privately about matters related to the “8·17” case.
Tan Shiming agreed, and assigned both of them to go to the Shangyue Hotel to establish the victim’s identity as quickly as possible.
The route to the Shangyue Hotel was straightforward enough. Jiang Hansheng had been silent the whole way, which made Zhou Jin decide to get ahead of it: “If you’ve come on my mentor’s behalf to talk me out of this, you can save your breath. This case means a great deal to me.”
She spoke with the cool, measured edge of someone preparing to negotiate — precise and unsentimental to the point of seeming almost harsh.
“I know.” Jiang Hansheng’s voice was even. “This is your duty. I won’t interfere.”
Zhou Jin was surprised.
Behind this shooting case lurked the same criminal organisation that had engineered the “8·17 Case” all those years ago. They had no fear of the police or the law. They had killed two officers before, and couldn’t be ruled out as still being armed.
The closer the investigation got to the truth, the closer it got to danger.
She could understand Tan Shiming’s concern — she simply couldn’t accept it. Pursuing the truth in this case wasn’t only about seeking justice for her brother. It was a duty she could not walk away from.
Her surprise was because Jiang Hansheng had genuinely set himself in her position — considered her perspective, and understood her choice.
No doubt the years he had spent working alongside law enforcement had something to do with that.
Without drawing any attention to it, Jiang Hansheng eased the car slowly to the side of the road and stopped. The Shangyue Hotel was still far ahead. Zhou Jin looked at him, puzzled. “What is it?”