TTS Chapter 7

The last two victims lived in Unit 1.

 

Since they were moving from top to bottom this time, there was no need to climb stairs, a small mercy for Xia Hang. Therefore, he followed behind Han Huaixiao, and together they quickly wrapped up the remaining interviews.

 

When they reached the ground floor again, Han Huaixiao tossed him the car keys. “Wait for me in the car,” he said, before walking off to deliver the evidence bag to the forensics team.

 

Xia Hang headed toward the car. A few elderly men were seated around a stone table nearby, playing Chinese chess. As they played, they talked animatedly about the elevator incident.

 

“Strange, isn’t it? Three buildings in this complex, and somehow only one ends up with a mess like this.”

 

“Fate, maybe. You’ve just got to live freely, like they say online, you never know which will come first, tomorrow or the unexpected.”

 

“Unexpected?! This wasn’t an accident. No way three elevators malfunction at the same time by coincidence.”

 

“I heard the police here are from the city bureau. Must be serious if even they showed up.”

 

“City bureau or not, so what? If it’s man-made, it’s got to be the elevator company’s fault. They should be investigating that instead of wasting time here.”

 

“Doesn’t add up, though. If the company were responsible, they’d have to pay a huge settlement, so they wouldn’t risk that. Must be something else.”

 

Xia Hang lingered nearby, pretending to watch their game while listening in. After a while, one of the men noticed his unfamiliar face.

 

“Hey, young man, you live in this community?” he asked.

 

Xia Hang smiled. “No, I’m a student at Lang University. I heard about what happened here and came to take a look.”

 

“You’ve got guts,” the old man said with a grin. “Most people would stay far away from a place that’s had bad luck. You came to watch it up close.”

 

“There are a lot of kids in your neighborhood,” Xia Hang chuckled. “I usually make a living tutoring students… Do you think you could add me to your residents’ group chat? Maybe I can post an ad there.”

 

“Your family doesn’t send you money?”

 

Xia Hang’s expression softened. “It’s just me now. No one left at home.”

 

He looked younger than his age, delicate and well-behaved. With that simple line, the old men’s hearts melted instantly, so they added him to the residents’ chat without hesitation.

 

After joining, Xia Hang chatted with them a little longer until he figured Han Huaixiao would be back soon. He then excused himself politely, slipped away from the chess table, and climbed quietly into Han Huaixiao’s car.

 

But this time around, he took the driver’s seat.

 

The interior was spotless, with not a single ornament or trinket in sight. In the backseat, a pillow and a neatly folded blanket were tucked into the corner. Clearly, Han Huaixiao often slept in the car.

 

A moment later, the passenger door opened. Han Huaixiao got in, his expression unreadable.

 

“Head to the property management office,” he ordered.

 

Xia Hang had already memorized the layout of the complex from the map earlier, so he navigated smoothly through a few turns and arrived at the office area.

 

It was well past office hours, but the property staff had stayed since the police were still around. The one on duty was still Xiao Ye, her eyes already red and swollen from crying. And yet, Han Huaixiao didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

 

“Has your property office had any recent conflicts with residents?”

 

Xiao Ye straightened up a little. “There’s always been some dissatisfaction among the residents, but just small stuff. Like how the elevator in Unit 2 broke down and wasn’t repaired as quickly as they wanted. Nothing major beyond that.”

 

Han Huaixiao’s tone stayed level as he asked, “Any residents in Building 1 who’ve had something significant happen lately?”

 

“Not that I’ve heard of,” she shook her head, but Han Huaixiao’s next question came out sharp and deliberate.

 

“Who burned the joss paper on Building 1’s rooftop?”

 

Xiao Ye froze, and surprise flickered across her face, quickly replaced by panic.

 

“I… I did.”

 

Han Huaixiao didn’t react. “Why burn it up there?”

 

Xiao Ye twisted her hands together, mumbling: “Before the New Year, one of the residents from the 16th floor of Unit 2 reported a roof leak… The property office called workers to fix it. When we left that day, my colleague, Sister Li, was in a rush to pick up her kid and forgot to lock the rooftop door. That night, the owner of 1104 came home drunk… he went to the wrong entrance, somehow ended up in Unit 2, climbed to the rooftop, and locked the door behind him. The lock on that door was faulty; once bolted, it was almost impossible to open from inside. He was drunk… and it was the middle of winter. By the time we found him the next day, he was already…”

 

Her voice trailed off.

 

“After that happened, Sister Li was fired. Lately, she’s been having nightmares, so she asked me to go up there and burn some paper for him.”

 

Xia Hang suddenly recalled what the resident from 1103 had muttered earlier.

 

“Two families dead, what a damn curse! Should’ve never bought this place.”

 

So that was it. The neighbor across the hall had died before the New Year, and now another family downstairs had lost someone. No wonder he said the place was cursed.

 

Han Huaixiao continued, his voice still cold and steady. “Were the locks on the other two rooftop doors faulty as well?”

 

Xiao Ye shook her head. “No. But he never tried the other doors. Must’ve been too drunk to think of it.”

 

“How was it handled afterward?”

 

“The property management paid some compensation. I don’t know the amount, the manager didn’t say.”

 

“No autopsy?”

 

“The family refused. So… no.”

 

When they finished the questioning and were about to leave, Xia Hang’s gaze lingered on the office water dispenser. He hadn’t brought his cup, and after being out for hours, his throat felt painfully dry. He wanted to ask for a drink, but seeing how rushed Han Huaixiao looked, decided against it.

 

Once they were back in the car, Han Huaixiao took the driver’s seat again. Xia Hang hesitated, then sat in the passenger seat. The moment he settled in, a bottle of mineral water landed in his lap.

 

He turned to look, but Han Huaixiao was on the phone, his eyes forward, as if the bottle hadn’t come from him at all.

 

“Old Li,” Han Huaixiao said into the receiver, “that case before New Year, the resident at Mingcheng Complex who froze to death on the rooftop, was there a police report?”

 

The person on the other end must’ve confirmed it because Han Huaixiao replied before hanging up, “Send me the case file.”

 

He then started the car and pulled away from the complex.

 

Xia Hang twisted open the bottle and took a sip, but didn’t swallow right away. Instead, he let the water sit in his mouth until it matched his body temperature, then swallowed slowly. One of the bullet wounds had affected his stomach, and cold drinks still triggered pain.

 

Judging by the route they were taking, he guessed there’d be no rest tonight, and sure enough, the car headed toward the city bureau. Han Huaixiao drove with practiced ease, no navigation needed, threading through side streets and turns until they reached the familiar district.

 

But he didn’t pull into the bureau parking lot.

 

Instead, he stopped about a kilometer away. Xia Hang looked at him, puzzled, but Han Huaixiao’s expression didn’t change. “Get out,” he said.

 

After Xia Hang got out of the car, he saw Han Huaixiao heading toward a small restaurant by the street. Only then did he realize that they hadn’t eaten all night, and it was already past ten.

 

The place was nothing fancy, just a late-night diner with the smell of oil and chili in the air. However, the boss looked up and grinned when he saw Han Huaixiao, clearly familiar with him.

 

“Captain Han, working overtime again?”

 

There was only one table of half-drunk customers left. Han Huaixiao chose the seat by the window and tossed the menu across the table, saying, “Order whatever you want.”

 

Xia Hang had been hungry for hours, but now that the adrenaline had worn off, the hunger was dulled into a hollow ache. He spotted noodles on the menu and picked fish belly noodles. Han Huaixiao glanced at the list, then added a serving of spare rib noodles for himself, along with two cold dishes: marinated beef and three-slik salad. (Three-Silk salad, as the name suggests, is a vegetarian dish made of three kinds of ingredients cut into shreds. Can be tofu sheets, cucumbers, carrots, vermicelli, enoki mushrooms, etc.)

 

When the boss brought over the teapot, Han Huaixiao filled a cup, lifted it, and downed half in one go. He caught Xia Hang watching him. “What? You think your rank gives you a pass from pouring tea for your superior?” he asked. “Or are you waiting for me to pour yours too?”

 

Xia Hang quietly took the teapot, refilled both cups, and took a slow sip.

 

Han Huaixiao gave him a brief look, then turned his attention back to his tea.

 

The noodles came quickly. Han Huaixiao was clearly starving, finishing his bowl in minutes. Seeing Xia Hang barely touch the side dishes, he ended up eating half of those too. Afterward, he paid the bill and stepped outside for a smoke, leaning lazily against the restaurant’s pillar.

 

Xia Hang slowly finished his fish belly and broth, leaving most of the noodles untouched. When he walked out, the sight of Han Huaixiao smoking stopped him short. The way he held the cigarette, smooth and practiced, wasn’t new.

 

The man who used to lecture me endlessly about quitting is smoking now?!

 

The story he’d told those old men earlier hadn’t been a lie.

 

Before he turned fifteen, Xia Hang had a happy home. His mother was a high school teacher, his father a police officer. When he’d realized he was different at fourteen and came out to them, he was confused and scared. However, his parents were shocked but never angry. Instead, they stayed up all night reading about it, learning and comforting him, telling him not to be afraid.

 

They were open-minded, gentle, and loving. As their only child, he’d been doted on.

 

Until the year he turned fifteen.

 

He was in class when the homeroom teacher suddenly came to fetch him, saying that someone was waiting at the school gate. Heart pounding, he ran out and found his father’s colleague, Uncle Ye.

 

Uncle Ye drove him straight to the hospital. His mother was in the emergency room, crying that his father had been killed in the line of duty.

 

After that, his mother spiraled into depression. She tried to stay strong for him, and he did his best to keep her company, going with her to every therapy appointment. But when he left for university at eighteen, she followed his father not long after.

 

That was when he learned to smoke. He smoked heavily, trying to numb the quiet.

 

When Han Huaixiao pursued him, he said the way Xia Hang looked with smoke between his fingers and eyes half-lidded was “sexy”. Then he threw out all of Xia Hang’s cheap twenty-yuan cigarettes and replaced them with outrageously expensive brands he’d never even heard of.

 

But the very next day, Xia Hang received a USB containing a one-gigabyte PowerPoint… beautifully designed, full of charts, facts, and even edited clips… all about the health risks of smoking.

 

And Han Huaixiao hadn’t stopped there.

 

He’d declared that as his boyfriend, he had the right to supervise him. “If I catch you smoking,” he’d warned, “you get punished.”

 

The punishment: a ten-minute public kiss.

 

Xia Hang hadn’t believed him until the day Han Huaixiao skipped a family dinner, doubled back halfway across town, caught him behind the dorms with a cigarette, and said nothing.

 

Nothing, until the next day.

 

They went to the basketball court, and in front of dozens of stunned students, Han Huaixiao pinned him down and kissed him breathless, for ten full minutes.

 

That was the kind of man Han Huaixiao was.

 

Now, years later, the man who once waged war against his smoking habit was lighting up like it was second nature.

 

Han Huaixiao noticed him staring and, misreading the look, tossed him the lighter and pack. “Go ahead,” he said.

 

Xia Hang caught them, but didn’t move.

 

“I quit.”

 

He really had. In his line of work, a single cigarette that was laced with something bad could get him killed, so he’d forced himself to stop. It had been hard. Nights of craving, sweat, shaking, but every time he wanted a smoke, he’d picture that ridiculous one-gigabyte PowerPoint.

 

Eventually, he kicked the habit.

 

Han Huaixiao’s hand stilled for a beat, the cigarette burning between his fingers. Then he took one last drag, flicked the ash, and crushed the butt in the trash can by the door. Without a word, he strode toward the parking lot.

 

Xia Hang watched him go, the faint scent of tobacco lingering in the cool night air: familiar, bitter, and far too close.
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T.N: Hello everyone, for those of you who might have followed my other novel, “When Youth Fails to See the Demon Lord’s Greatness”, unfortunately, it can no longer pe posted here, on Novels Space. I will continue to translate it and post the chapters on my , so you can check it out there if you’re interested. As of now, chapters 1- 41 have become free for everyone, and starting next week, I will continue to post one new chapter each Tuesday, also for free. Advanced chapters will continue to be available for those to chose to become my Patrons. Thank you for your time! ❤️

 

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