Chapter Text
The Nangong family home sits nestled in the mountains, just out of the way of the smoke and bright lights of the city. A sprawling marvel of traditional architecture, first built by Nangong Chang Ying in the mid-Qing dynasty era and expanded in the years that followed as the Nangong fortune grew, it had been the center of the family’s power for a little over two hundred years.
These days, it rarely houses more than one or two Nangong family members at a time. If a cousin has particularly disappointed the head of the family then they might be sent to the mountain residence to reflect on their actions, but in recent years it has become more of a holiday location for the members of the main family. It is too far from the corporation’s headquarters to be a convenient place of residence and is too traditional to fit Nangong Liu’s personal taste; thus, the CEO of Rufeng Corporation much prefers to spend his time switching between the many properties he’s acquired since taking his position—sleek, modern buildings that win admiration and envy from the vultures who run in the same elite circles as him.
Tonight, however, is not the time for modernity. Tonight is a night for reminders. And there is no better reminder of Rufeng’s status than a house which has stood in place for over two-hundred years; refurbished and remodelled, yes, but remaining.
It is an intimation to both enemies and allies of the Nangong family that while most of them have gained their wealth in recent years—capitalising on the economic boom, skyrocketing into excess through a combination of ruthlessness, bribery and sheer luck—the Nangongs have been playing that game for centuries and winning.
It is at this residence that Mo Ran and Chu Wanning arrive just as the sun begins to set below the mountains. The dimming orange light washes the surrounding mountains shades of hazy blue and purple, and on any other evening Chu Wanning would appreciate the stunning scenery. But as he has looked out the window from the passenger seat of Mo Ran’s car, his mind has been empty of everything but anxious anticipation.
Mo Ran had done his best to keep him occupied throughout the drive. He’d chatted mindlessly about anything that came to mind, telling him increasingly unlikely stories about customers from his days as a line cook that Chu Wanning didn’t quite believe but was too amused to question. Even he had begun to quieten as they got closer to their destination, however, and when they finally arrive in a cleared area just outside the residence, they are both silent.
They are greeted by a smiling, white-masked valet as soon as they reach the clearing. They get out, and just before Mo Ran passes off the keys to the valet, he goes to the back seat and retrieves two masks he had left there.
Chu Wanning isn’t sure where Mo Ran had found the masks, but they are tailor-made to fit the outfits he had picked out. Chu Wanning’s mask is as white as his suit; a half-face mask made entirely of ivory-painted metal that coils and swirls like intricate lace. It is designed to be decorative rather than effective at concealing his identity, but it is so beautiful that Chu Wanning can’t bring himself to be too disappointed about the lack of anonymity.
Mo Ran’s mask is practically the opposite of his. It is black and covers his whole face, leaving only angular cut-outs for his eyes. It has similar swirling designs to Chu Wanning’s mask, but they are raised and painted in the same black as the base so that they can only be seen when the light hits them in the right way.
When he puts it on, Chu Wanning can’t help but feel that he looks like something out of a fairytale.
A dark prince or a lonely god. Featureless and unrecognisable, but still distinctly handsome with his dark, purple-shaded eyes and the hint of his strong jaw. Nothing at all like warm, genial person that Chu Wanning has come to know.
It makes him feel strange. He cannot tell if it is in a good way or a bad way, but there is a slight shiver that goes down his spine when Mo Ran first looks up at him after putting the mask on.
“I knew it would suit you,” Mo Ran says to him, sounding pleased. Filtered by the mask, his voice has taken on a hollow quality.
Chu Wanning adjusts his own mask, held securely against his face by a white silk ribbon. He contemplates asking why Mo Ran hadn’t chosen a mask like his, but he supposes he understands the reasoning. Taxian-Jun already knows his face; as does most of the rest of Rufeng. It is better for Mo Ran to be as concealed as possible.
Unsure of how to respond to Mo Ran’s comment without sounding vain or awkwardly trying to compliment Mo Ran’s choices, Chu Wanning chooses silence. He inclines his head and starts to walk towards the glittering lights of the Nangong mansion.
Mo Ran’s gaze lingers on him for a moment before he follows him up the trail, just one step behind the whole way.
As they approach the mansion, Chu Wanning’s attention is immediately drawn to the men in dark suits who line the property. Uniformly tall and grim-faced, they are visibly on display; meant as both a reassurance to the incoming guests and a demonstration of power to anyone who might have come to see for themselves if the strength of the Nangong family was fading.
Chu Wanning knows that they are not a contracted company. These men are hired and trained by Rufeng alone, supposedly for the purposes of ensuring that the weapons that Rufeng designs and exports are kept secure at all times. They are one of the factors that give the company such prestige, and Chu Wanning has only ever seen two or three of them in one place at a time, guarding one of the family members or accompanying a sensitive shipment. For so many of them to be here at once is an explicit indication of how important Nangong Liu considers this event to be.
Once the party begins, Chu Wanning guesses, the suits will fade into the background. While Nangong Liu intends them to be a statement, he won’t want them to dampen the spirit of the event and so they will be relegated to the shadows as silent, faceless guardians.
The winding path up from the car park leads Chu Wanning and Mo Ran to the first garden entrance of Rufeng, where they are stopped by a doorman with a perfectly curated smile who checks over Chu Wanning’s invitation. His keen eyes stop for just a second on the gold-embossed Rufeng seal on the invitation before he bows and waves them through.
Having been identified as legitimate guests, they continue walking through the large entry gates into a sprawling water garden. A stone path stretches out over a small man-made lake, and the water is lit up from underneath, illuminating the large koi fish that swim lazily between sparse lotus stems. Chu Wanning can just make out in the darkness that the water garden extends out onto a forested area, with willow trees vines trailing in the pond and causing ripples the water as they sway in the cool evening breeze filtering through the mountains.
At the end of the path is the main hall, and the large black double-door entrance is open. Golden light streams through the doors and music can be heard faintly playing from within, intermingled with the sound of dozens—perhaps even hundreds—of voices.
It is too late to back out now. Chu Wanning has no choice but to press forward with Mo Ran only a few centimeters behind him.
Walking through the main doors is jarring. The traditional exterior of the Nangong’s home is discordantly contrasted by the modernity inside; a wash of whites and grays, sleek lines and marble floors meet them immediately upon entry. There are some visible remnants of previous generations of Nangongs, with traditional paintings and statues strewn over both the lower floor and the exposed upper floor, but they seem to be an afterthought rather than a central component of the interior design.
Nangong Liu’s guests mill around the sprawling lower floor, and the scene that meets Chu Wanning’s eyes is more reminiscent of a court from the days of lords and emperors than anything that belongs in the twenty-first century. Draped in silks, dripping with jewels and hidden behind masks, the effect is almost surreal; a sea of impossible wealth and power, concealed and yet more plainly visible than ever before.
A woman in a long red gown with bright crimson lipstick wears a tiger mask, smiling as she carefully watches her companion in grey, who wears a wolf mask and is in the process of showing her a watch worth more than the price of a luxury car. A man with bleached hair in a swan mask talks quietly with a group of men gathered around him whose attention seems fixed on his every word, hanging off him like jackals waiting for their next meal. A young woman in a dark pink qipao fawns over a man three times her age, pouring more champagne into his glass as his withered hand slides along her waist.
Chu Wanning can feel the tension in his core building as he takes it all in. The dread that has been mounting all day spikes as he realises how deeply out of his comfort zone he is. He feels like a child who has accidentally wandered into the deep end of the pool and realises too late that the ground has given way beneath them.
"Looks like someone let all the peacocks out of their cages," Mo Ran murmurs beside him. "Speaking of which, where is Mengmeng? This seems like exactly his habitat."
Chu Wanning snorts—and the tension that had been mounting in his chest eases off as he casts his eye over the gathering, relieved to have someone specific to look for.
He knows the Xues were invited to this event, with Xue Zhengyong’s position as Dean of Sisheng him more than important enough for his entire family to warrant an event. That, combined with his reputation as a heavy donator to charity events, has him on the guest list of most important society events that Linyi has to offer.
"He’s over there by the fountain," Chu Wanning says when he eventually catches sight of a familiar form in dark blue in the crowd. He frowns as he notes that Xue Meng is scowling and moving his hands animatedly as he talks to someone just out of his line of visibility. "He’s with…"
"The Mei brothers," Mo Ran says, his voice amused. "They’ve found him already."
As a waiter moves out of the way, Chu Wanning can see that Xue Meng is indeed talking to the twin heirs of Taxue Group. They cut strikingly tall figures with their slicked-back blond hair and identical pale blue suits, and their similarities make the difference in their expressions seem almost comical. One’s expression is vaguely disapproving yet oddly intense as Xue Meng talks, while the other sports a charming grin that Chu Wanning guesses is part of what earned the younger Mei Hanxue his debauched reputation.
While Xue Meng is—somewhat ironically, considering Mo Ran’s nickname for him—wearing a green and blue-feathered mask, the twins are wearing identical white arctic fox masks.
"They’ve been trying to get him into bed with them since they came back from studying abroad," Mo Ran explains to Chu Wanning, keeping his voice low so as not to be heard by any eavesdropping guests. "But Xue Meng’s completely oblivious. He thinks they’re trying to get back at him for bullying them when they were kids."
Chu Wanning’s eyes widen, scandalised, as Mo Ran pauses briefly.
“I mean—they are," he adds. "But that’s definitely not all they want."
Chu Wanning has heard enough.
He starts walking towards Xue Meng, dodging the partygoers milling around the room. He can hear Mo Ran’s soft laugh and his footsteps as he follows Chu Wanning; a tall and handsome shadow.
Knowing Xue Meng is at this event is an unpleasant revelation. Chu Wanning had somewhat expected it, as it would be considered rude for his parents not to make an appearance, but he had hoped that Xue Meng would decide not to attend alongside all the stuffy businesspeople tonight. Though he’s an adult now, at twenty-one, it is difficult for Chu Wanning not to think of Xue Meng as the gap-toothed child that had followed him around with shining eyes in the weeks after Xue Zhengyong first hired him. The idea of Xue Meng in the same room as Taxian-Jun is enough to set Chu Wanning’s teeth on edge.
Xue Meng notices him when he’s only a few meters away. He glances in Chu Wanning’s direction then breaks off whatever he’s saying to the Mei twins that requires so many extravagant hand gestures, his mouth gaping open in surprise.
"Chu-laoshi!" he exclaims, and the Mei twins turn to look at him as well—the eldest of the two looking distinctly displeased to have Xue Meng’s attention so thoroughly redirected. "You’re here!"
He sounds so shocked about it that Chu Wanning can’t help raising his brows.
"I received an invitation," he says, feeling as though he has to justify his presence.
Which he supposes he does. It’s not like receiving an invitation has made any sort of difference to his attendance at these events in the past.
"Of course you did." Xue Meng flushes slightly, embarrassed but still enthusiastic. "But Dad said he wasn’t sure if you were coming, so I didn’t think…"
He trails off. Not because he’s not sure what to say, as in many years of Chu Wanning knowing Xue Meng his capacity to find something to say has never been shown to have a limit, but because he spots the figure who’s come to stand at Chu Wanning’s shoulder.
He squints suspiciously—trying to identify the dark-masked figure.
Mo Ran is shoulder to shoulder with Chu Wanning, his proximity telegraphing their familiarity. He's close enough that Chu Wanning can feel the heat radiating from him, and he waits a few moments to see if Xue Meng can identify him before he breaks the silence.
"What, big smiles when you see Chu-laoshi but no hug for your beloved cousin?" he says, shaking his head in faux-disappointment. "Come on, Mengmeng—where's your sense of familial loyalty?"
Chu Wanning is certain that beneath his mask, Mo Ran is grinning.
Recognition dawns on Xue Meng’s face and he takes a step back.
"What are you doing here?" he demands, sounding outraged.
Mo Ran laughs openly at his cousin’s indignance, and Xue Meng’s expression shifts quickly from shocked to irate.
This is the first time that Chu Wanning has ever seen the two of them interact, but this dynamic makes a strange sort of sense to him. Xue Meng grew up as an only child, and it was probably for the best as by his nature he is—
Well, particularly vulnerable to being teased.
Chu Wanning is vaguely aware from conversations with Madam Wang that this was something the younger Mei twin exploited during their teenage years, and for someone like Mo Ran, who has a playful nature and a keen interest in knowing what makes people tick, Xue Meng makes for better entertainment than any book or play ever could.
He wonders, briefly, what it would have been like if Mo Ran and Xue Meng had grown up together. Somehow he feels that it would have been good for both of them, but it’s not obvious with the way that Xue Meng looks at Mo Ran now.
"I invited him," he says to Xue Meng, answering his question to Mo Ran for him.
It would be closer to the truth to say that Mo Ran invited himself—but Chu Wanning isn’t going to say that when Xue Meng already seems so opposed to his presence. Better to leverage some of the respect that Xue Meng has for him to prevent the escalation that answering truthfully would provoke.
"But—why?" Xue Meng asks, bewildered.
Chu Wanning hesitates. He's not sure how much of the reason for his presence he should explain, as he's already revealed too much of the details of his case to Mo Ran and he's doesn’t know if it would be good for Xue Meng to know what could happen here tonight—
But Mo Ran saves him from the dilemma of figuring out how to respond by speaking first.
"I'm the arm candy," he says easily, winking. "If anyone boring and old tries to talk to Chu-laoshi, I'll step in to seduce them so he can make a fast escape."
Chu Wanning shoots him a look that is somewhere between embarrassed and exasperated that Mo Ran accepts without a hint of shame. Xue Meng crosses his arms, his scowl deepening as he looks at his cousin.
"Chu-laoshi did not—"
"Yuheng!"
A booming voice echoes across the room, loud enough that it attracts a few glances from other guests. The voice is familiar and Chu Wanning does not need to look up to see the blue-clad man walking towards him to know exactly who's speaking.
Xue Zhengyong is a broad-shouldered, indelicate man; the exact opposite of his son's petite stature, though both of them carry themselves with the same confidence resulting from an over-healthy ego. He wears a half-faced navy mask that doesn't cover his broad grin as he cuts through the room, warm eyes fixed on Mo Ran and Chu Wanning.
"Look at you!" he announces as he draws near them, beaming at Chu Wanning. "I thought I saw you from a little way away, but I thought to myself—no. The Yuheng I know wouldn’t show up to a Rufeng event all dressed up!"
He looks over at Mo Ran and claps him on the shoulder.
“And with my handsome nephew, no less!”
Chu Wanning is startled by how quickly Xue Zhengyong recognised Mo Ran, but he supposes that the Xue patriarch would know better than anyone that there is only one person he would be likely to attend this event with. And it’s not as though Chu Wanning knows a great many 6 foot 2 young men built like Olympic athletes.
"Zhengyong," Chu Wanning says, nodding in greeting. Then looking behind him to the graceful middle-aged woman sweeping closer—with decidedly less commotion than her husband—he nods at her too. "Chuqing. It's been some time."
"Too long, Yuheng, too long!" Xue Zhengyong says, stepping aside slightly and comfortably taking the arm of his wife as she comes to stand next to him. "I asked my wifey just the other day—do you think Yuheng's forgotten all about us? Too busy solving crimes to have dinner with his oldest friends?"
"And I told him that you do very important work and can't always be available to come all the way across the city for a meal," Wang Chuqing says, her voice stern even as she takes on a vaguely apologetic expression while looking at Chu Wanning.
Wang Chuqing is a singularly beautiful woman, and her beauty has only been enhanced by the dark blue qipao she wears to match her husband and her son. She's borrowed her husband's infamous 'Xue' fan for the night, it seems, and she waves it gently to counter the heat of the crowded room.
"My apologies," he tells her, genuinely meaning it.
She is right to think that his work is the reason he hadn't responded to Xue Zhengyong's latest email invitation for dinner, though it hardly makes for a good excuse considering that had been the same reason he'd declined the last invitation—and now because he's spent every other night having dinner with their nephew instead.
"You don't have to apologise to us," Xue Zhenyong says, waving away Chu Wanning's apology. "You've brought A-Ran with you and that's more than a good enough consolation."
"Is it?" Xue Meng mutters—then ducks his head when his mother flicks her fan warningly in his direction.
From there, Xue Zhengyong launches into a lively speech about what Chu Wanning has missed in the time since they last saw one another. Graduations of favoured students, renovations of Wang Chuqing’s garden, and a string of events and names that Chu Wanning doesn’t recognise. Chu Wanning listens, but he watches Mo Ran and Xue Meng as he does.
As his uncle talks, Mo Ran edges closer to his cousin and whispers something to him that makes Xue Meng go red with anger. He glances over involuntarily at the Mei twins—who had melted back into the crowd as soon as they no longer had Xue Meng to themselves, and are now talking to their adoptive father, the business tycoon Ming Yuelou—and then his head whips back to Mo Ran as if he is afraid of being caught looking at them. He hisses something back at Mo Ran, and all that Chu Wanning can make out is the word “slut”.
Whether it’s directed at Mo Ran or one of the Meis, he can’t be quite sure.
"I have to ask, Yuheng…"
Chu Wanning’s attention refocuses on Xue Zhengyong, who seems to have finished his recounting of recent life events and is now looking at him with unexpected hesitation in his dark eyes.
"Why are you here?” he asks, searching Chu Wanning’s face. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but I do remember you telling me that you wanted nothing to do with the Nangong family last time we discussed the matter."
For all that he can speak carelessly at times, Xue Zhengyong is a smart man. Chu Wanning can tell from the apprehension in his expression that he’s already come to his own conclusions about why Chu Wanning is here, and now he’s only looking to Chu Wanning to confirm those conclusions.
Chu Wanning debates internally about how much to tell him. While telling Xue Meng didn’t feel like an option, he doesn’t want to leave Xue Zhengyong unaware of the potential danger he and his family are in. He already feels as though he should have written to Xue Zhengyong and Wang Chuing in the first place, telling them not to come and why. As much as it is a comfort to have people he knows at this event, it is equally a source of anxiety. He already feels enough pressure to keep an eye on Mo Ran tonight without adding worry for the Xue family to the mix.
"There is… a chance that the unknown subject from the Rufeng case will show up tonight," he says after a time. He keeps his words vague and doesn’t going in-depth about the reasons for his suspicions, but is still as direct as he can manage.
Grim-faced, Xue Zhengyong nods. "I expected as much. When I saw that Nangong Liu was throwing a party at a time like this…"
To someone like Xue Zhengyong, the actions of a man like Nangong Liu are incomprehensible. One only needs to spend a few minutes with Xue Zhengyong to know that he would never think of putting his friends and family at risk, let alone for a reason as inane as reputation.
"He’s an idiot," Chu Wanning says. He doesn’t bother to try and hide his anger.
Xue Zhengyong lets out a short, huffing laugh, and does not disagree.
He’s cordial with Nangong Liu, and they run in the same circles, which is why he’s been invited to his son’s birthday; but it is a relationship of convenience, not of choice. Rufeng regularly donates money to Xue Zhengyong’s charitable funds as a way to reassure the public of their commitment to philanthropy, and Xue Zhengyong will not put his personal dislike above a hefty cheque for child food security—no matter how self-serving the motivations for those donations are.
"Keep an eye on Xue Meng tonight.” Chu Wanning’s expression is hard. “And stay away from people you don’t know."
Xue Zhengyong nods again, pensive. His gaze flickers to his son, who’s still talking animatedly with Mo Ran, and though his gaze is worried it softens incrementally as he watches him.
Chu Wanning watches him watch his son, and something about it is…
Difficult. For him.
He has spent the past week thinking about fathers. After his discussion with Nangong Yu, and now his conversation with Mo Ran about Nangong Liu, fatherhood has been on his mind. He had never known his father and only ever had Huaizui to fill that role for him, so there is something sweet and painful about watching the obvious love in Xue Zhengyong’s eyes as he looks at Xue Meng.
That sort of unconditional paternal love is possible and Xue Zhengyong proves it every day. He would never think about leaving Xue Meng to clean up his mess, or using him as a prop in his desire for power and respect. Xue Meng is a good son in spite of his temperament, but his "goodness" has never factored into Xue Zhengyong’s desire to nurture him and protect him.
That is just how he is. How a father should be, for all that so few seem to be able to meet that standard.
"You’ve been well these days, right Yuheng? In spite of everything?" Xue Zhengyong asks. He has turned away from Xue Meng and he looks at Chu Wanning now, his expression earnestly inquisitive. "I did wonder if passing along Jiang Xi’s request was the right thing to do."
"It was," Chu Wanning says quietly. "Even if you hadn’t been the one to tell me about the case, things would have gone the same way eventually."
He’s certain of that. He’d been certain of it the moment he’d opened the case file, tracing over those horrific pictures and the poorly pieced-together details of Taxian-Jun’s patterns. They were never going to solve that case on their own, and as things got worse and pressure mounted, word would have reached him some way or another. Nangong Liu might even have found a way to threaten him if he felt that it was necessary, and if he truly believed that Chu Wanning wouldn’t accept a case from him.
Ordinarily he would be right to think that. But he wouldn’t have needed to threaten Chu Wanning this time.
One of Chu Wanning’s most plainly obvious flaws—and he has many, he knows, for he’s spent hours pouring over them in an attempt to understand why and how he became so alone—is curiosity.
He’s never been able to resist a puzzle. As a child he used to try and piece together small machines, using scraps of string, wood and rubber bands to make silly little toys for himself when none were given to him by the school. He couldn’t help but want to find connections, seek out cohesive threads of meaning to put together something whole and functional. Everything had a use, everything had a purpose, and in finding it he was able to give himself purpose for a brief time.
Now he is a grown man and that drive to string together threads and find purpose has not disappeared. Rather, it was whittled by Huaizui into a new shape; and one that is infinitely more absorbing than even the most complex of his little machines.
But Chu Wanning cannot forget what used to happen when he played as a child. The nails, shards of glass and scrap metal that he collected were too sharp for his small, unsteady hands, and he would frequently slip. He ended up covering his hands and arms in cuts, staining his pressed white uniform with blood and being beaten for ruining the pristine clothes when he returned back to his dormitories.
Not much has changed. Knowledge is sharp, and Chu Wanning’s hands do not feel steady at this moment.
"There’s no need to be concerned about me," Chu Wanning hears himself saying to Xue Zhengyong.
Knowing, even as he says it, that he cannot be certain he is telling the truth—but saying it anyway, because nothing he is getting himself into is something Xue Zhengyong will be able to help him out of.
"You are at least eating, aren’t you?" Xue Zhengyong says to him, frowning and completely ignoring Chu Wanning’s weak reassurance. "I know how you are with your boxed meals, Yuheng. It’s no way to live, even while working on a case."
There, Chu Wanning thinks, is the effect of being a father to a young man who has recently moved out of home. He almost smiles, but the look on Xue Zhengyong’s face is so genuine that he doesn’t want to be seen to be making light of it.
"I’ve been fine. And—" Chu Wanning debates what he says for a split second before he continues anyway, giving up on any attempts at secrecy. "Mo Ran has been a great help."
Thankfully, the mention of his nephew has exactly the effect on Xue Zhengyong that Chu Wanning hoped it would. His face lights up, frown lines smoothing out as he nods approvingly.
"I was certain the two of you would get along. You’re different, but in just the right ways."
Chu Wanning is well aware of the differences between him and Mo Ran, but he’s never thought of it like that. Possibly because in his mind, they are complementary because Mo Ran’s virtues compensate for his flaws. Chu Wanning’s inability to cook, carry a conversation and express approval are starkly contrasted against Mo Ran’s excellent cooking, practised conversational skills and easy displays of affection.
He doesn’t mention any of this to Xue Zhengyong. He doesn’t think he’d respond well if Xue Zhengyong tried to list his positive qualities at the moment; it’s taking a lot of willpower for him not to abruptly leave this party as it is.
"I’ll be honest, Yuheng…" Xue Zhengyong says, still looking at Mo Ran with that complicated expression he seems to reserve just for his nephew. "I find it difficult to tell what that boy is thinking."
Chu Wanning’s brows raise. He doesn’t think Mo Ran is easy to read, exactly—he spends much of his time trying to read Mo Ran's intentions himself. But a part of him had assumed that was a problem exclusive to him.
Understanding people's emotions outside of the context of a case has never been a strength of his; moreso when trying to understand people's feelings towards him. There is a difference between trying to discern someone's guilt and trying to discern—other things.
"He's very polite, and good-tempered," Xue Zhengyong adds hastily, as if worried that Chu Wanning will form some negative opinion of Mo Ran based on his last words. "But sometimes I wonder—well, how much he keeps to himself."
Chu Wanning nods slightly, unable to resist the urge to flick his gaze to Mo Ran briefly. He cannot see his face beneath the dark mask he wears, and he suddenly wishes he could. He wants to know if Mo Ran is smiling, and if he is, whether it is the curated charming-young-man smile he wears whenever he speaks to another of their neighbours in the corridor, or whether it is the other smile.
The smile he wears when it is just him and Chu Wanning. The sweeter, darker smile.
A great deal, he answers Xue Zhengyong silently.
"Give him time," he says aloud.
"I'm not too worried," Xue Zhengyong says, the corners of his lips turning upward. "I might have been before, but seeing you here together has made my heart lighter."
He leans in slightly, as if he is about to tell Chu Wanning a secret. When he speaks his voice is low and confidential.
"You know, when we first met him, it felt more like I was talking to a man my own age than a twenty-year old? I wanted to bond with him so I kept rambling on about whatever came to mind, and he would nod along even if I could tell he was just humouring me. We probably would have kept on like that, with me making a fool of myself and him pretending to listen to my nonsense, except that one day while we were talking I mentioned you."
That effectively captures Chu Wanning’s attention. His gaze sharpens in interest, and Xue Zhenyong’s lips twitch upwards in amusement.
"I started to tell him about one of the early cases you consulted on, and all of a sudden he was riveted,” Xue Zhengyong continues. “He kept asking questions, wanting to know more about your job—more about the cases you'd taken on. I ended up talking about you for hours on end, just to watch his eyes brighten like a boy hearing about a new hero for the first time."
Chu Wanning feels like he shouldn’t be hearing this, but he’s captivated. Xue Zhengyong’s words give new meaning to the many questions Mo Ran asked him about his cases during their conversations. Chu Wanning had always felt like he was just humouring him; trying to keep up a conversation so clearly unaccustomed to casual chatter over dinner. But then—there had always been a certain ardor to Mo Ran’s questions. He would stay perfectly silent and engaged as Chu Wanning answered, like he was committing each word to memory.
Xue Zhengyong’s voice becomes less secretive and he leans back, patting Chu Wanning on the shoulder with a smile.
"So of course, when that terrible business happened with your old apartment and Mo Ran told me there was one available right next to him, it felt like fate."
Chu Wanning hums in response, trying to sound noncommittal.
Fate is not something he believes in. Partially out of selfish reasoning, as he doesn’t want to live a life guided by some unseen hand, but partially because he’s more convinced by the phenomena of human machinations and random chance.
It is… nice. To think that for once in his life, his luck was just good enough to bring him Mo Ran.
Xue Zhengyong changes the subject a little after that, moving on to the topic of the difficulty he faces in imagining Xue Meng going to live on his own as Mo Ran does. Chu Wanning tries to listen, but his mind is still stuck on what Xue Zhengyong told him about Mo Ran.
Normally, people who are over-interested in him make him uncomfortable. He feels like they see him as more of a curiosity or a character from a book than a real person, and he much prefers to be around people who don’t care about him at all than people like that. But for some reason, knowing about Mo Ran’s curiosity about him doesn’t repel him at all.
He wants Mo Ran to want to know more about him. He wants him to care about his past, and his achievements. He wants Mo Ran to think of him as someone worth staying with.
These thoughts are at the forefront of Chu Wanning’s mind as Xue Zhengyong eventually catches sight of his wife standing in the corner of the room and watching the world move by quietly with a placid expression on her face.
Soon after that, he excuses himself from the conversation with a half-smile. "What sort of a gentleman companion would I be if I went throughout the night without once asking my lovely wife to dance?" he asks.
Chu Wanning hums—less agreeing than entertaining Xue Zhengyong’s whimsy—but they’ve been friends long enough that Xue Zhengyong recognises it as permission to go back to his wife. He pats Chu Wanning on the shoulder and then makes his way towards Wang Chuqing, long strides carrying him quickly across the floor of the hall towards her.
Once he sees that Xue Zhengyong has left, Mo Ran slips away from his cousin. He does so by leaving him once again to the dubious mercies of the Mei twins, and while it isn’t the kindest thing for him to do, Chu Wanning doesn’t have time to scold him for it before Mo Ran snags a glass of white wine from one of the waiters and gently presses it into his hands.
His fingers brush against Mo Ran’s before they curl around the stem of the wine glass. He finds himself unspeakably grateful to Mo Ran as he stands there, both for providing him with something to hold and because he’s sure now that alcohol will be necessary to make it through the rest of the night.
"Xue Meng…" he starts to say, pursing his lips as he glances tellingly towards the Xue heir.
Mo Ran snorts, waving his free hand noncommittally. "He’ll be fine. He’s a big boy. Besides, as much as they scheme, the twins make good bodyguards for Xue Meng. He’ll need them if he starts provoking Jiang Xi again."
Chu Wanning frowns, looking up.
"He knows Jiang Xi?"
Mo Ran’s brows raise. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Jiang Xi went to school with Auntie and he goes over the their house pretty regularly for dinner. Xue Meng’s known him since he was a kid, but from what I can tell they can’t get through a single conversation without Jiang Xi calling him a brat and Xue Meng calling him an evil old man."
That… is news to Chu Wanning.
He’d been aware that Wang Chuqing and Jiang Xi knew each other, though Jiang Xi had corrected the Bureau Chief when he’d called them friends. Jiang Xi’s icy tone as he called them ‘acquaintances’ was a world away from the picture that Mo Ran had just painted of their relationship, and more so if he’d known Xue Meng since he was a child.
Something there is unusual. Chu Wanning can’t quite place his finger on it, and he’s not one to pry into anybody’s personal affairs, but he makes a quiet note of it nonetheless. Perhaps one day Xue Zhengyong will tell him of his own accord, but if it’s something he hasn’t mentioned already, then he will have a reason for keeping it to himself.
"Have you seen anyone you think could be him?" Mo Ran asks. His voice is low, just audible over the constant hum of conversation around them and the swell of music that emanates throughout the hall.
Despite already knowing his answer, Chu Wanning's gaze sweeps up, scanning the throngs of Nangong Liu's guests. He touches on each masked face, putting name to the few he recognises and marking the visible features of the many he doesn't.
Mo Ran does not follow his line of gaze. He looks only at Chu Wanning, watching his eyes narrow, dark and bright against the bone-white of his mask.
"We have no physical information on Taxian-Jun. There's no way to identify him here unless he chooses to reveal himself," Chu Wanning responds eventually, matching Mo Ran's muted pitch.
That certainty had worked its way to the forefront of Chu Wanning's mind the moment he had stepped through the gates and has remained there since. It makes Taxian-Jun seem more like a ghost than a man; able to linger at the fringes of the room or stand shoulder to shoulder with Chu Wanning without being noticed. It brings him closer to being the shadowy monster conceived of by the media and the Public Security Bureau, and distances him from the material, fallible being that Chu Wanning needs him to be in order to catch him.
"Come on, Detective." Mo Ran is using that voice he puts on when he doesn't quite believe what Chu Wanning is telling him. That voice reserved for when Chu Wanning insists he doesn't want to take home the rest of the lotus pastries, or says he can work out how to use the dryer on his own. "I know how you work. There's no way you haven't thought about what he looks like."
Chu Wanning scowls at Mo Ran, but there's clearly not enough bite behind it, because Mo Ran doesn't even bother to feign penitence. Chu Wanning can tell he's smiling behind that mask of his, even if he can't actually see it.
Of course he's thought about what Taxian-Jun looks like. Chu Wanning has always visualised his thoughts, to the benefit of his work and the complication of his personal life. Taxian-Jun's case is no exception.
He has replayed each of Taxian-Jun's murders in his head, over and over again until the kaleidoscope of images has burned into the insides of his eyelids as he tries to sleep at night. Through this process he has given Taxian-Jun hands, with which to grasp and break and bruise, legs with which to run (to hunt), and a cold heart that beats steadily inside his chest. He has put him together piece by piece, as he would with any patchwork machine from his childhood, and watched him run.
The only thing he has not been able to give Taxian-Jun is a face. In place of features, the Taxian-Jun in his mind has only a swirling void.
"Recklessly over-using a profile with limited information is how careless mistakes are made," Chu Wanning says to Mo Ran flatly.
That's where the Linyi police went wrong with Xu Shuanglin, after all. From the scale and systematic viciousness of the violence, they had come to the conclusion that they were looking for a group of contract killers or a mob group trying to enforce their territory. They had pooled all their resources into scouring the underworld and had completely ignored the possibility that they could be looking for one man.
Over twenty people had died as a consequence of that mistake. Three more would live the rest of their lives without their tongues.
"No recklessness here, Chu-laoshi," Mo Ran promises solemnly—like a chided schoolboy. Then the expression melts away, transforming into something more genuinely serious. "But even a bit of a profile is better than nothing—at least so I know who I should be wary of."
Chu Wanning hesitates, considering Mo Ran’s reasoning.
He’s not entirely wrong. They’re surrounded by almost two hundred people, any one of whom could be a serial killer, and narrowing down those possibilities could end up saving both of their lives. Chu Wanning’s personal commitment to avoiding putting together a profile this early is important when he’s following leads, but could be useful here, both for knowing who Mo Ran should avoid and who Chu Wanning should approach.
Chu Wanning exhales. Then he allows his mind to run through the educated suspicions, careful calculations and a few instinctive assumptions that he’s filed away in his mind methodically since he first learned of the case. Pulling together details of escape routes, the victims’ body mass’, and whatever timelines he has managed to establish so as to compose a profile that is both general and semi-concrete.
"He’s strong," Chu Wanning says slowly—thinking of bones broken against knuckles and corpses dragged up staircases and out of windows. Grown men overpowered in a matter of minutes or seconds. "And agile. Probably between the ages of twenty and forty."
"That already narrows it down," Mo Ran comments, eyeing off the crowd—many of whom are well above the age-range Chu Wanning has provided.
"He’s tall—and likely to be a man," Chu Wanning adds. His guess that Taxian-Jun is a man is also strongly based on intuition. Not because he thinks women couldn’t be so brutal—no one could have seen the results of that mass killing by a cultist wedding planner in Wuchang and think otherwise—but because of some other sense he can’t explain. And because he can’t explain it, he won’t be saying it out loud.
"As for his character…" Chu Wanning hesitates. "He’s either got a high position within Rufeng Corporation, or he’s in a position where he has access to large amounts of information about Rufeng’s employees."
More likely the latter than the former, considering how many more administrative workers there are than high-powered Rufeng employees. In a business like Rufeng, power is concentrated very heavily at the top. But with knowledge of Nangong Yan’s disappearance settled at the edge of his consciousness, he doesn’t want to rule anything out.
That is all the information he can give Mo Ran without going into uncertain territory. Taxian-Jun is young, strong, and knows more than he should. It’s not much, but it’s something to start on and anything else is purely conjecture.
And yet…
Chu Wanning finds himself caught on one more image in his neatly-organised stockpile. That folded note with its plain, printed characters.
"He’s confident," he says, his mouth moving before his brain can catch up. "Even if he’s not ready to be caught, he will not hide away. He won’t be in the shadows—he’ll be among the guests. He’ll enjoy talking to his potential victims while they remain oblivious."
Mo Ran tilts his head.
"That sounds risky."
It is. But whoever Taxian-Jun is, he’s confident that his true identity is well-concealed, and he would hardly waste an opportunity like this. Not when he has a game to play and his cards are stacked.
"It’s—entertaining, to him," Chu Wanning says, his grip tightening on his glass. "Knowing he can fool people."
Laugh with them, smile at them, talk about their work and their families and their interests. Flatter them, a little, so they remark to their colleagues how nice he is. Fill their ears with honey so they hardly notice by the time they’re swallowing poison.
"And it will make his revenge more satisfying when they learn the truth."
Because there’s no better way to do it, really. Setting the stage and making sure that everything is just right so that when the curtain falls, the wool drops from the victim’s eyes. The illusion that they’re safe, that they’ve escaped punishment, that no one knows what they did—
All of it will disappear.
And all that will be left is Taxian-Jun, and whatever he has decided is justice.
There is a prickle at the back of Chu Wanning’s neck; that tell-tale sensation of being watched. He does not allow it to unsettle him, because he knows it is only Mo Ran, watching him from behind his dark, inscrutable mask.
He wishes, momentarily, that Mo Ran could take the mask off so Chu Wanning could see what expression he’s making. He wants to know if Mo Ran looks afraid of what Chu Wanning describes, or unperturbed, or pitying of Chu Wanning’s predicament. It is difficult enough for him to discern what Mo Ran is thinking when he can see his face, and without that luxury he finds himself—on edge.
"This is not a substitute for common sense," he says, trying to gather himself and take control of his mounting agitation. "Trust no one, whether or not they fit those characteristics."
Mo Ran inclines his head in acknowledgement.
“Okay, Chu-laoshi,” he says, deceptively compliant.
Mo Ran raises a hand, and for a moment Chu Wanning thinks he is going to stroke his cheek or hold the back of his neck; he even tenses up, preparing for the sensation of skin on skin. But Mo Ran’s hand stops at his tie, which he adjusts carefully.
“Just remember to take your own advice, alright?” he says.
Then he steps back, and Chu Wanning does his best to remember how to breathe.