As Yin Wuwang walked out of the office, Little Lu came running from the end of the corridor.
"Brother Jiang! You and Dr. Shen going out on field work?"
"Mm."
"Where to?"
"Night Wanderer."
Little Lu's eyes lit up. "The bar? At night? Can I come?"
"No need." Yin Wuwang said, tone brief but not cold. "Help me with something—compile files on all Night Wanderer Bar employees. Full-time, part-time, outsourced, everyone."
Little Lu pulled out his phone. "Outsourced too? Like cleaning?"
"Yes. Even someone who only works there ten minutes a month. Name, phone, address, hire date, shift records."
Little Lu's expression switched from disappointment to serious, fingers rapidly typing on his phone. "All personnel, including outsourced and part-time. Got it."
"No rush, but be thorough."
"Brother Jiang, you're looking for someone specific?"
Yin Wuwang considered for a moment. The shadow in the back alley. The woman He Jinsong had glimpsed. Someone who knew the bar's environment intimately—who knew where the cameras couldn't see, who knew Chen Wan's schedule, who had enough access to observe everything without being noticed.
"Maybe." He said. "That's why I need everyone. Even the ones who seem unimportant."
Little Lu nodded, the gravity of the task settling in. "I'll start with HR records tonight. Should have something for you by tomorrow morning."
"Good."
"Don't worry, Brother Jiang!" Little Lu patted his chest, then leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Oh, Brother Jiang—I passed by the break room just now and saw Dr. Shen washing a cup for you. Someone like him actually washing cups for people—aren't you way too blessed?"
Yin Wuwang's footsteps paused for an instant.
A very brief instant.
He thought about the morning—the coffee disaster, the green tea correction, the travel mug. And now, apparently, Xie Qingyan had washed the mug before refilling it. A small thing. A thing that didn't need to be done. A thing that Fuguang, in three thousand years of knowing him, had never done for anyone.
"Noted." He said, and continued walking.
From behind came Little Lu's barely suppressed mumbling: "Every time like this... his ears are clearly red and he's still pretending..."
Yin Wuwang pretended not to hear.
He kept walking, his pace deliberately even, his expression carefully blank. Three thousand years of battlefield composure, and Little Lu's mumbling still made his pulse skip.
When he reached the parking lot, Xie Qingyan was already standing by the car. The dark gray travel mug was in his hand, cap screwed on—probably freshly refilled green tea inside.
Yin Wuwang glanced at that mug. Bought yesterday; Xie Qingyan had brought it out today. Not left on the desk at the office, but carried along for an evening field visit.
Such a small thing. But it meant the tea would still be warm when they got to the bar.
"Going?" Xie Qingyan asked.
"Going."
Yin Wuwang pulled open the driver's door, got in, started the engine. Xie Qingyan got in the passenger side and placed the travel mug in the cup holder on the center console.
The dark gray mug body gave off a subtle metallic sheen in the dim car interior. Plain, simple, nothing flashy—exactly the kind of thing Fuguang would choose to use.
He didn't say anything.
The car pulled out of the station gate, merging into the city traffic as night gradually deepened. Streetlights flickered on one by one along the road, casting alternating patches of light and shadow across the dashboard. The evening rush hour had passed; traffic flowed smoothly.
"The bartender," Xie Qingyan said, breaking the comfortable silence. "His name is Ah Wei. Works the main counter, been there four years—longer than most of the staff."
"You read his file?"
"Glanced at it before we left." Xie Qingyan's gaze was on the passing buildings. "Four years means he was there before Chen Wan transferred the bar. He saw the transition."
Yin Wuwang nodded. Someone who'd witnessed the before and after. Someone who might have noticed the change in Chen Wan—from owner to manager, from someone with something to lose to someone who'd already lost everything.
"What are we asking him?"
"What Chen Wan was like." Xie Qingyan said. "Who he talked to. Whether he ever mentioned family. Whether anyone visited him regularly." He paused. "And whether anyone watched him a little too closely."
The shadow in the back alley. The woman with the pleasant voice. Someone who'd spent six months manipulating Zhang Yunxiang, who knew the bar's rhythms intimately, who'd waited in the dark with the patience of a spider.
She had to have been there before. Multiple times. Observing. Learning. Planning.
Yin Wuwang's mind went back to the daytime bar visit—the woman who'd walked in carrying a bucket and mop. Li Jing, Morning Light Cleaning, Saturday and Sunday mornings. He'd noticed her then: too ordinary, too unsuspicious, ordinary to the point of near-invisibility. The kind of person everyone assumed belonged there.
"That cleaning lady we saw." He said suddenly. "Li Jing."
Xie Qingyan turned to look at him.
"Someone who comes regularly, knows the layout, can access the back alley without anyone questioning why." Yin Wuwang's eyes narrowed. "She was already on my radar. But I didn't have a reason to look closer—until now."
"The shadow figure in the surveillance." Xie Qingyan connected the thread. "Small build. Knew where the cameras couldn't see."
Their eyes met briefly in the dim car interior.
"That's why I asked Little Lu to pull everyone's records." Yin Wuwang said. "Including outsourced staff. I want to see Li Jing's full schedule—every time she's been at that bar."
Night Wanderer Bar. Second time.
Last time they'd gone during the day, in their capacity as detectives. This time was at night—in their capacity as a couple.
Yin Wuwang stepped on the gas. Through the windshield, neon signs lit up one after another ahead. The city transformed at night—harder edges, brighter colors, more secrets hiding in the spaces between the lights.
Chen Wan's story was hidden behind the bar counter where he'd stood every day.
And the people who'd seen his smile might remember things they shouldn't remember.
[End of V2_Chapter 35]
Next: The bartender talks, the cleaning schedule doesn't add up, and a name that keeps coming up—Li Jing.