Chapter Fifty-Two: Sleepless Night

After hastily packing her things, Qin Ruonan trudged home, drained of energy as if every ounce of strength had been siphoned from her body. It felt as though a vat of vinegar had been brewed in her chest, the sourness so overpowering that it stung her nose and nearly kept her from opening her eyes.

Qin Ruonan, oh Qin Ruonan! You promised to let go, to neither speak nor think about it—so what is this now? She berated herself fiercely in her heart, shook her head, and a wave of dizziness washed over her, blackening her vision. She swayed, barely managing to steady herself.

Only then did Qin Ruonan realize she hadn’t eaten anything since noon—no wonder she felt faint.

Unwilling to trouble herself with the matter of filling her stomach, she only wanted to hide away and be still.

At home, she boiled water and made a bowl of instant noodles. Qin Ruonan sat holding the bowl, staring blankly, her gaze drifting past the open door to rest on a box of Yunnan Baiyao atop the bedside table.

The wall clock ticked steadily, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the box of medicine. The noodle bowl in her hands went from hot to cold; the noodles inside had long since turned to mush.

A car horn sounded downstairs, startling Qin Ruonan. She snapped back to reality, realizing she had been lost in thought, fixated on that box of medicine for nearly an hour. Irritated, she set the bowl down on the small dining table, strode to the bedroom, grabbed the medicine box from the bedside table, and tossed it straight into the trash bin. Without looking back, she left the room, dumped the cold, ruined noodles, and, lacking appetite to cook again, simply chose not to eat. She rolled up her sleeves and began a thorough cleaning of her home.

After more than two hours, Qin Ruonan was drenched in sweat, her back aching, and as she looked at the spotless little apartment, she felt no sense of accomplishment. That sour, stifled feeling in her heart hadn’t lessened in the slightest.

She lay on the bed, listlessly gazing at the ceiling. While tidying the kitchen and bathroom, she hadn’t dared to glance at the mirror, afraid to see her short hair, thin frame, and utter lack of feminine charm.

How foolish you are, she thought, not a trace of a woman’s softness or allure, yet deep down you still cling to those delicate, indecisive traits that make women so complicated.

At that thought, Qin Ruonan felt the urge to cry. She could barely recall the last time she shed tears—almost forgotten what it felt like. Only now, with her nose tingling and her eyes burning, did she realize this human instinct hadn’t disappeared from her.

As her nerves finally relaxed, tears fell without warning. Qin Ruonan didn’t wipe them away, letting them soak the pillow. These tears had been stored for years, fermenting for too long; now, it was time to clear them out.

A sudden vibration from her phone interrupted her emotional release. She wiped her blurred vision with the back of her hand, picked up the phone beside her pillow, and saw the word “Home” on the screen.

That word brought neither comfort nor warmth to her face. Instead, her brows furrowed instantly. Her finger hovered over the reject button for a long time, but in the end, she tossed the phone aside, letting it vibrate on its own.

The phone buzzed intermittently, finally falling silent after a long while. With the phone quiet, Qin Ruonan breathed a sigh of relief, but it felt as though another stone had been added to her heart, making it heavier.

This number named “Home” would never call her unless there was something important; what could it be this time?

She frowned, speculating inwardly, her gaze unconsciously drifting to the trash bin beside the bedside table. After a long sigh, she leaned over, retrieved the medicine box, and placed it carefully back on the bedside table.

No matter how unrealistic it may seem, let yourself cling to a shred of hope. Otherwise, when even the last flicker fades, what will keep your heart beating?

That night, Qin Ruonan felt no trace of sleepiness. She abandoned any thought of rest, dug out the materials on the Lu Min case, and began carefully analyzing them, searching for any crucial details the investigation might have missed.

As she reviewed everything, she noticed a particular detail: the brick used to sink Lu Min’s upper body the second time it was found.

The brick was reddish on the outside, but its core was dark greenish-black. Qin Ruonan was no expert, but she knew, based on common sense, not all bricks could be fired to such a color—it depended on the technique and the soil used.

Nowadays, dust may be everywhere in cities, but if someone were asked to find half a brick at random, it would be a challenge. With changes in construction materials, most buildings now use hollow bricks or cement blocks; even construction sites rarely have those old red bricks anymore. So, was the brick that sank Lu Min’s upper body sourced from outside the city?

If she could trace the origin of that brick, would it bring her closer to the murderer?

Then there was the rat poison. As forensic expert Zhao had said, its ingredients were common, but what about the packaging?

The rat poison came in small plastic bags, so rudimentary that even the manufacturer was absent from the packaging—clearly not the product of any official factory. Most likely, it was packaged by the small vendors who sell rat poison, either repackaging bulk poison or breaking up larger packages into smaller ones.

If so, perhaps by tracing these small packages, she could find the direct seller of the rat poison and uncover who had bought it from them.

Qin Ruonan was a woman of action. With no sleep and a restless mind, these ideas only made her more eager to act. Fortunately, in early autumn, dawn came early. As soon as the sky began to lighten, she rushed out, and by the time the rest of the Major Crimes Unit arrived at the office, she had already sent the brick for analysis and compiled a list of all the brick kilns around City C still capable of firing bricks—ready for future investigation.

When An Changpu arrived at the office, it wasn’t even eight o’clock. Upon discovering all that Qin Ruonan had accomplished, he was astonished.

“Did you inject yourself with chicken blood? I appreciate enthusiasm, but this is a bit much!” Though he recognized the importance of Qin Ruonan’s findings and admired her meticulousness, he never approved of working around the clock without rest—health was the foundation of everything, an unchanging truth in An Changpu’s mind.

“I’m fine. Come on, let’s go to T County!” Qin Ruonan finished her work, stood up briskly, grabbed her coat, and waved at An Changpu. “Let’s head out!”