Chapter 24: What Movie To Watch Next

"What should I be worried about?" I asked Jian Yuche, cocking my head to the side.

"About anything. The investigation. The missing weapons. The fact that I’m sitting in your living room trying to figure out how you did it."

I looked at him, my expression neutral. "Should I be worried?"

"Most people would be."

"I’m not most people."

"No," he said quietly. "You’re not."

There was something in his tone—something that suggested he’d stopped trying to fit me into a category he understood. The suspect box didn’t work. The criminal box didn’t work. I didn’t fit anywhere, and that bothered him more than any missing evidence ever could.

Good.

Let him be bothered.

Xu Zhenlan moved again, this time refilling my water bottle without being asked. I took a sip, the cold liquid cutting through the salt and sugar coating my tongue. Yuche watched the interaction, his expression thoughtful.

"You’re very comfortable here," he said.

"It’s my home. Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?"

"Is it? Your home I mean. After all, neither one of these men are related to you."

I glanced at him. "What else would it be if not my home? And last time I checked, blood didn’t mean anything when it came to who you... care about."

"I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out."

On the screen, the protagonist had made it through the door. She was safe. For now. The creature on the other side was pounding against the metal, its shrieks echoing through the corridor. She slid down the wall, her chest heaving, her weapon clutched in shaking hands.

"She should keep moving," Chenghai said.

"She’s exhausted," I countered. "If she keeps moving, she’ll make a mistake."

"If she stays still, she’ll die."

"If she moves, she’ll die faster."

"You’re impossible to argue with."

"That’s because I’m right and you hate that fact."

Jian Yuche’s mouth twitched again, that almost-smile flickering across his face before disappearing. "You two do this often?"

"Do what?" I asked.

"Argue about fictional survival scenarios."

"It’s not arguing," Chenghai said. "It’s strategic discussion."

"It sounds like arguing."

"That’s because you’re not listening closely enough."

I reached for another gummy bear, biting into it with a satisfying pop. Jian Yuche watched me, his gaze steady, like he was waiting for me to say something that would give him the answer he was looking for.

He was going to be waiting a long time.

"Tell me something," he said after a moment. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"The warehouse. The weapons. All of it."

I looked at him, my expression blank. "I didn’t."

"You were there."

"Was I?"

"The security footage—"

"Shows me walking past a warehouse. That’s not a crime."

"It shows you walking past a warehouse that was full one day and empty the next."

"Sounds like a logistics problem."

"It’s more than that."

"Is it?"

He leaned forward again, his elbows on his knees, his gaze intense. "I know you did it. I just don’t know how."

I popped another gummy bear into my mouth and chewed slowly. "Maybe you’re looking at the wrong person."

"I’m not."

"Then maybe you’re asking the wrong questions."

"What questions should I be asking?"

I smiled, just slightly. "If I told you that, it wouldn’t be very fun, would it?"

Zhou Chenghai snorted and Xu Zhenlan’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Jian Yuche sat back, his gaze never leaving my face.

There was something different in his expression now—not frustration, not anger, but something closer to resignation. Like he’d realized that no matter how many times he asked, no matter how many angles he tried, I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted.

Because I didn’t have to.

On the screen, the protagonist was moving again, creeping through the corridors with her weapon raised. The creature was close. She could hear it breathing, could see its shadow moving along the walls. She turned a corner—

And came face to face with it.

"Told you she should’ve kept moving," Chenghai chuckled.

"She did keep moving," I countered. "That’s why she found it."

"That’s not a good thing."

"It’s better than waiting for it to find her."

"Debatable."

Jian Yuche continued to watch us, his expression unreadable. Then he stood, smoothing his shirt with one hand. "I should go."

"So soon?" I asked, my tone light as I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I think I’ve learned what I came here to learn."

"And what’s that?"

He looked at me for a long moment, his gaze steady. "That you’re not going to tell me anything."

"Was that ever in question?"

"No," he said quietly. "I suppose it wasn’t."

He turned toward the door, then paused, glancing back at me. "You’re an interesting person, Miss Shen."

"Thank you."

"That wasn’t a compliment."

"I know."

He almost smiled. Then he left, Chenghai following him to the door to make sure he actually went.

Zhenlan moved to sit beside me on the couch, his presence solid and grounding. On the screen, the protagonist was still fighting, still running, still surviving against impossible odds.

I reached for another cheezie.

"He’s not going to stop," Zhenlan said quietly.

"I know."

"Does that bother you?"

I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head. "No. Let him keep looking. He’s not going to find anything."

"You’re very confident."

"Why shouldn’t I be? After all, it’s not like I took his weapons. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Zhenlan’s hand found mine, his fingers curling around my uninjured palm. "You’re also very reckless."

"That’s part of my charm."

"That’s part of what’s going to get you killed."

I looked at him, at the worry etched into his features, at the way his grip tightened just slightly. "Not today."

"That’s not reassuring."

"It wasn’t meant to be."

On the screen, the protagonist fired her weapon, the creature screamed, and the credits started to roll.

Chenghai returned from the entryway, dropping back onto the couch beside me. "He’s gone."

"Good."

"He’ll be back."

"I know."

"You’re not worried?"

I reached for the remote and started scrolling through the options for the next movie. "You guys keep asking me that. Tell me why I should be worried and I’ll start."

Chenghai and Zhenlan exchanged a glance. Neither of them answered.

Because they both knew the truth.

Jian Yuche had stopped treating me like a suspect. He’d stopped looking for evidence, stopped trying to prove I’d committed a crime.

Now he was treating me like a problem he didn’t understand.

And that shift—that fundamental change in how he saw me—bothered him more than any missing weapons ever could.

Good.

Let him be bothered.

I had more important things to worry about.

Like what movie to watch next.