A Pang of Disappointment

The five higher-ups didn't immediately come to a decision upon hearing Song Zhuyu's request, of course. 

Hence, Song Zhuyu was forced to spend a night in the isolation room, sleeping with his broad frame draped pitifully over the table, still clad in his bloodstained clothes. The dried crimson hue, now sickly brownish red in color, clung to his skin akin to an indelible corruption, and no matter how much Song Zhuyu tried to wipe them on the table, the stains simply did not dissipate. It made the pristine white table become dirty instead. 

Song Zhuyu was certain he was not a clean freak, but to witness such an originally clean and pure room to be 'tainted' with his every movement, his teeth ached so badly with the urge to wipe it clean. 

The feeling was almost unbearable, like a legion of ants crawling beneath his skin. It came to the point where he mistook a few strands of his hair for blood, and in a reflex to remove the filth, he ended up plucking them off his head for good. 

As if fueling his frustration, external sounds ceased to exist here, and all he could hear was the faint rasp of his own breath, his heartbeat, the noisy rustle of his clothes, and his soft curses. Furthermore, he even dreamed of that accursed voice calling his name again!

Now Song Zhuyu seemed to understand the true purpose of this sterile isolation room. Barely a day had passed, yet he already felt like he was about to go insane.

Eventually, Song Zhuyu merely took a short nap of… an hour? Half an hour? He couldn't tell for certain due to the absence of a clock in the room. Sensing that he was growing more and more restless in this place, he forewent sleep altogether in lieu of meditating in an attempt to calm his mind and distract himself from the nauseating stench of blood and decay clinging to his body.

As he closed his eyes and focused on regulating his breath, he held his spirit artifact in his palm, finding solace in the faint warmth it emitted when usually it felt kinda cold to the touch. Maybe it was due to the dark energy it had absorbed earlier.

When the door was finally opened after an unknown amount of time, the turbulent waves in Song Zhuyu's heart had become still, his expression numb and weary. 

"Follow me, young man," Chief Song crooked a finger at him. Judging by the dark circles beneath his eyes, it seemed like he hadn't gotten much rest throughout the night either. 

Song Zhuyu smoothly pulled himself up from his cross-legged position on the floor and followed Song Juwei out of the isolation room. 

Outside the window, the sky greeted him with a soothing palette of dark blue and purple, tinged with a faint orange glow heralding the arrival of dawn. After spending the whole night in the pristine white room, the sky suddenly looked twice as breathtaking to his eyes, loosening the remnants of tension that lingered on his body. 

"How is it?" Song Zhuyu asked, his voice extremely hoarse. 

Only then did he recall that he hadn't had a single sip of drink for the whole night. His throat was so parched that it hurt, his lips were chapped, and his head seemed to swell in pain. Oh God, how terrible he must look right now. Talk about being treated like a criminal. 

It was unknown whether Song Juwei was doing it on purpose or not, but he began to prattle on, yet also avoiding the topic Song Zhuyu wanted to know the most,

"The bereaved have agreed to settle the matter privately instead of pursuing legal action. To prevent the deceased Lu Mengjie from becoming a new source of pollution, her body was cremated this morning and buried in the local cemetery. The final cause of her death is alcohol poisoning. You should go and pay her some respects later. As for the eyewitnesses in the bar and any photos or videos taken, the clean-up crews are taking care of them as we speak. Although they can manipulate memories to some extent, you should still lay low and keep yourself hidden. I don't want you to get into the headline news next time."

"Oh," Song Juwei added, almost as an afterthought. "Your motorcycle is parked downstairs. It's entirely unharmed so you can be rest assured."

Song Zhuyu fixed a hard stare at the back of Song Juwei's head, but the latter offered no further explanation. He couldn't help but roll his eyes. Scratch that— Song Juwei must be doing this on purpose, pretending not to understand what he really wanted to know.

And Song Zhuyu lacked the energy to press further. His throat burned, and he felt utterly drained, both mentally and physically. If right now Song Juwei were to inform him that he needed to serve in prison, he doubted he could give any reaction other than a simple 'oh.'

Song Juwei led him to the nearest resting lounge and pushed the door open, revealing an empty and cozy space. He gestured for Song Zhuyu to enter the bathroom. "Clean yourself first, young man," he instructed with a mildly repulsive expression. "You look like shit."

Managing to summon a semblance of humor, Song Zhuyu lifted the corners of his lips. "Thank you for the compliment."

Under Song Juwei's glare, he walked to the water dispenser and gulped down two full glasses before striding to the bathroom to scrub himself clean. When he emerged fifteen minutes later looking like a drenched cat, dressed only in a white bathrobe he found inside, there was an additional person in the room with Song Juwei. 

"Yes, I know. I will return first then. Thank you so much for—" Zhen Yan's words came to an abrupt halt the moment his eyes met Song Zhuyu's. The smile froze on his face, and his gaze became extremely complicated. He was still dressed in the same clothes as last night, his eyes mildly bloodshot. Apparently, no one could afford to have a good rest last night.

Song Zhuyu stood still and pursed his lips, at a loss of words. He could still vividly recall the fear and horror in Zhen Yan's eyes as he questioned why Song Zhuyu had killed that woman – whose name he still couldn't remember until now. 

At that moment, it seemed like an invisible crack had formed in their friendship and Song Zhuyu had no idea how to rectify that. No manual or guidebook had ever taught him how to deal with such a situation. While his mind raced to come up with an appropriate greeting, Zhen Yan averted his gaze and bowed respectfully toward Song Juwei, 

"I will take my leave first," he said politely. "Thank you so much for your help, Chief Song."

Then, as if the previous four years of their friendship never existed, Zhen Yan swiftly left the resting lounge without so much as sparing him another glance.

As Song Zhuyu stared at the door he disappeared into, he… he struggled to make sense of his current emotions. Did he feel sad? No, that's not quite accurate. It wasn't anger or resentment either. It took Song Zhuyu a while to pick apart his complex emotions and discern the most obvious one— disappointment.

He felt a pang of disappointment, for he had genuinely thought of the other as his friend.

He had presumed that Zhen Yan understood him somewhat, or at least he would make the effort to demand an explanation from Song Zhuyu about the accident last night, which he would gladly offer. But Zhen Yan didn't. He just walked away and… that's it.

Did he also find Song Zhuyu too intense and intimidating, like the others?

"Do you know what he said when we took his statement after the incident?" Song Juwei asked after observing his expressions for quite some time. 

Without words, Song Zhuyu shifted his gaze to the older man, a silent inquiry in his eyes.

"He told me he was afraid," Song Juwei divulged. "He was afraid of you, who could kill someone without a hint of hesitation, without even batting an eyelid. Do you have anything to say about that, young man?"