Senior Sister (2)

Mei Zhao’s appearance was entirely unexpected. Aside from Liu Suisheng, she caused quite a stir within the police station.

“She has such incredible elegance… Are we sure she isn’t an actress?”

“She seems to be Sister Sheng’s friend. I’ll ask Sister Sheng about it later.”

“And here I thought Officer Liu was already stunning enough. Who knew there’d be someone even more captivating…”

“Doesn’t this prove a clear point? Beautiful women only hang out with other beautiful women.”

It wasn’t that everyone was making a mountain out of a molehill; Mei Zhao’s aura truly belonged to a class of its own.

Her long hair was loosely secured at the back of her head with a claw clip, exposing the clear lines of her collarbones beneath a slender neck. She wore a satin casual top paired with camel trousers, layered under a thin, apricot-colored trench coat. The simple and elegant combination perfectly accentuated her innate grace. Complemented by a poise refined over the years, she resembled a narcissus resting in a slender glass vase. Even a distant glance was enough to strike a chord in one’s heart.

“Senior Sister.”

Liu Suisheng stepped into the lobby and called out softly from a few meters away. Mei Zhao lifted her gaze, a ripple of warmth reflecting within her calm eyes.

She stood up, opened her arms, and pulled her into an embrace.

“Why are you here?” Liu Suisheng asked.

Mei Zhao scratched her eyebrow slightly. “I had some business nearby and decided to drop by to see you on the way.”

Liu Suisheng narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”

“Huh?”

“You just scratched your eyebrow.”

“Heh…” Mei Zhao shook her head in mild exasperation, smoothing down the crown of Liu Suisheng’s hair as she confessed candidly, “Your tone sounded off over the phone the other day, so I came to check on you.”

Liu Suisheng smiled. “That’s perfect, then. I actually had a chat with a mentor today and managed to sort through a lot of things.”

“Really?”

“Really. In fact, you were right. How could they possibly let a high-profile convict who shocked the entire state escape so casually? Since the person who left the engraving isn’t Thanatos, then it can only be a prankster. Or perhaps someone who found out about that case and wanted to copy him. As long as it isn’t Thanatos, no one else is a match for me.”

Mei Zhao’s face bore traces of exhaustion, which was only natural. She hadn’t closed her eyes for the past two nights, booking a midnight flight from America to China before transferring to a train to finally reach Wengcheng. Now that she saw Liu Suisheng’s spirit fully restored—standing before her perfectly fine, devoid of any lingering dread or agony—the heavy stone in her heart finally dropped. She let out a bright smile and said:

“This is the Liu Suisheng I know.”

When old friends reunite, conversation naturally flows without end. It reached a point where Zhao Yu, passing by for the second time under a flimsy pretext, found herself forced to interrupt:

“I’m heading home. Liu Suisheng, do you need a ride?”

Liu Suisheng replied, “No need, Captain Zhao. Go on ahead. I’m going to take my senior sister out for dinner in a bit.”

Zhao Yu wasn’t particularly pleased, though she kept it from showing on her face. “Mm, alright.”

Beside her, Mei Zhao seemed to be jolted by something. She turned her head and asked, “The officer’s surname is Zhao?”

Zhao Yu nodded. “Yes. Is there a problem?”

Mei Zhao explained, “It’s nothing. Zhang, Wang, Li, Zhao—yours is quite a common surname, Officer.”

Liu Suisheng chimed in, “Mm, though she’s the only one in the entire station with the surname Zhao.”

Zhao Yu was entirely bewildered, failing to see what kind of conversational depth the surname “Zhao” possessed to warrant being singled out and questioned. Her right hand twitched imperceptibly before she stuffed it into her pocket:

“Then suit yourselves. I’m heading back.”

Mei Zhao’s gaze lingered on the motion of her hand rising and falling. Three seconds later, she resolutely opened her mouth to call her back: “Officer Zhao, do you have time to join us for a casual meal?”

Liu Suisheng gave her a subtle tug, but Mei Zhao gently covered her hand with her own, continuing to look directly at Zhao Yu as she spoke:

“I’d quite like to get to know Suisheng’s superior. I wonder if Captain Zhao would do me the honor?”

Zhao Yu’s footsteps halted. She turned around, meeting Mei Zhao’s gaze, only to perceive a hidden clash of blades beneath the warm, spring-like facade.

She knew this woman was declaring war on her.

For dinner, they went to a Western restaurant recommended by Chen Doudou. Each person ordered an individual portion of either steak or pasta, depending on their preference.

Mei Zhao possessed exceptional emotional intelligence; conversing with her felt incredibly comfortable. Whether it was her tone or her choice of words, there wasn’t a single element that made anyone feel awkward. Despite being just like Liu Suisheng—an expert skilled in profiling and behavioral analysis—she completely lacked Liu Suisheng’s interrogative and oppressive edge. If Liu Suisheng was a queen wielding a scepter, then Mei Zhao was a court painter who saw through everything clearly yet remained completely detached from worldly disputes.

They sounded like a perfect match.

Meanwhile, Zhao Yu was the warrior charging at the frontlines against hostile factions, steeped in blood, deliberately keeping her distance from the monarch.

Thinking up to this point, Zhao Yu aggressively sucked a forkful of pasta into her mouth, chewing it all at once.

Toward the latter half of the meal, Liu Suisheng excused herself to the restroom, taking a detour to the front desk to settle the bill. Finally, the warrior and the painter had their opportunity for a one-on-one confrontation.

Zhao Yu kept her head down, focused on her pasta, because she genuinely did not want to have too much interaction with Mei Zhao. From the brief dialogue at the table alone, she had already felt Mei Zhao’s immense personal charm. She was terrified that if they spoke more, her own heart would soften, leading her to believe that if Liu Suisheng could be with someone this wonderful, she could willingly offer them her blessings.

However, Mei Zhao had clearly engineered this moment. Her earlier decision to invite Zhao Yu ensured that this dinner could never conclude peacefully.

Setting down her steak knife and fork, Mei Zhao broke the silence:

“How much do you love her?”

Her tone was gentle, yet the question was direct, striking straight to the absolute core.

Zhao Yu stopped her fork, pulled a napkin to wipe away the sauce clinging to the corner of her mouth, and rested both hands firmly on the edge of the table. Staring directly into Mei Zhao’s eyes, she delivered each word with deliberate weight:

“That doesn’t seem to have anything to do with you.”

Mei Zhao scrutinized her movements. She raised an eyebrow and nodded her head:

“Mm. You love her significantly more than I anticipated.”

Zhao Yu’s breathing grew a fraction heavier—talking to profilers was truly an insufferable experience.

“What exactly are you trying to say?” she asked bluntly.

Mei Zhao let out a soft sigh:

“Suisheng’s demands for love are exceptionally high. If someone doesn’t make a deliberate effort to see her, she simply won’t see them. If a gift isn’t chosen specifically for her, she won’t accept it. If someone doesn’t love her unconditionally, she won’t love them back.”

“I understand that point far better than you do.”

“Is merely understanding it enough?” Mei Zhao countered. “Don’t you find it suffocating?”

“What?”

“In front of Suisheng, her focus is eternally locked onto how your hands are placed, what shape your eyebrows are making, and what angle your feet are resting at. Are you truly okay with that feeling of being completely seen through?”

Zhao Yu disdained this low-level attempt at provocation, stating with absolute directness:

“As it happens, something occurred during a past mission, leaving me unable to make facial expressions.”

Mei Zhao’s gaze locked onto her. Recalling their interaction from the moment they met at the station up until this dinner, Zhao Yu had indeed maintained a completely stoic face throughout. The muscles on her face barely shifted at all; even her polite, customary smile toward the waiter while ordering had looked somewhat forced.

However, this did not fall within her scope of concern. There was only one thing she wanted to ascertain, so without pressing for the underlying cause, she simply followed up:

“Are you trying to say the two of you are a match made in heaven?”

“Otherwise?” the passage of time had not diminished Zhao Yu’s competitive drive in the slightest, particularly when it came to matters concerning Liu Suisheng.

Having extracted her stance, Mei Zhao’s lingering question finally found its answer. Immediately following it, however, was a much deeper, long-term anxiety:

“But I believe she is still holding back from you. Only when she is willing to personally tell you about her past can the two of you be considered truly together.”

Zhao Yu’s palm felt as though it had been stung, her ring finger twitching instinctively. She naturally understood exactly which period of time this “past” referred to, and she was equally aware of Liu Suisheng’s fierce, isolated pride—realizing she might never choose to speak of it herself. Even so, this would never alter her feelings.

“I accept her reality, and I accept her mystery.”

It was an answer that could deeply move anyone. If Mei Zhao were a naive teenager, she would undoubtedly be touched by an affection that willingly lowered its own stature to such an extent. But she had already witnessed far too many intense romances that concluded in utter tragedy.

“Mere acceptance is still not enough,” she reminded her.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You are no longer the you of back then, and Liu Suisheng is no longer the Liu Suisheng of back then. The fact that you managed to traverse through hardships to be together in the past does not guarantee you can do the same now. Officer Zhao, there is not a single person in this world who is willing to endlessly circle the exact same spot on the road of life for the sake of another. But if two people simultaneously choose to move forward, it is akin to a single fulcrum extending into two separate lines. Out of three hundred and sixty possible angles, it is incredibly difficult for their directions to remain aligned, isn’t it?”

As her words fell, Zhao Yu went completely silent. Her dark, void-like eyes stared straight at Mei Zhao, resembling sharp blades that wanted to rip apart the beautiful visage this painter had crafted.

“You know about our past. It’s impossible that she told you. Where exactly did you find out?”

She interrogated:

“Who exactly are you?”