Timeline Player

Inside a simply decorated café on the street.

Chi Que sat opposite a woman.

He sat by the window with an iced Americano in front of him, adding sugar and stirring it constantly with a spoon.

The woman opposite him was around thirty years old, with exquisite makeup, but her eyes were small and her cheekbones were somewhat sharp.

"Mr. Chi," the woman said with a troubled expression, "I've seen your photos."

Chi Que took a sip of his Americano and felt that there wasn't enough sugar in it.

"To be honest, I don't think it's very convincing." The woman pulled several photos out of her bag. "Look, in these photos, he's just walking with that woman at most; they haven't even held hands. Can that be considered evidence?"

The photo shows a man who, from every angle possible, captured the image of the other person and another woman entering the scene at the same time. It was taken by Chi Que after spending three days staking out the location and following the other person, waiting for the right moment.

Chi Que said, "I understand what you mean, but based on my observation, your husband's routine is very regular. He leaves home at eight in the morning and returns home at seven in the evening. He goes shopping on weekends. There are no unusual phone calls, no suspicious spending, and he doesn't stay out all night."

The woman was stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting him to remember so clearly.

"So?" Her tone changed, becoming somewhat impatient. "You mean, I wronged him?"

"I didn't say that." Chi Que took another sip of his Americano, which still tasted a bit bitter, so he added a piece of sugar. "I was just stating the facts."

The woman leaned back, a meaningful look on her face: "Mr. Chi, do you know why I contacted you?"

Without waiting for a reply, she continued, "You private investigators, to put it bluntly, are just people who do things for money. I give you money, you give me what you want, it's very simple, and it has nothing to do with the so-called investigation results."

She tapped her phone screen: "I'm contacting you because I want something that will give me confidence in court, understand?"

Chi Que tossed a third piece of sugar into the Americano.

Seeing that he remained silent, the woman assumed he was moved by her words and continued, "How about this, I'll consider the previous deposit as a delivery fee, and we'll forget about the remaining balance. Don't feel like you're losing out; after all, what you do in this line of work isn't exactly aboveboard. Just consider it making friends."

As she spoke, she began to pack her things, her movements swift and efficient, clearly indicating that she had prepared this explanation in advance.

"Since you know that my line of work is shady, why do you think I haven't prepared a backup plan?" Feeling that the coffee was finally sweet enough, Chi Que put down the cup with satisfaction, looked up, and finally spoke.

The woman paused, holding the bag in front of her, and asked warily, "What do you mean?"

Chi Que did not answer her question directly: "I've heard that people who frame others always fabricate charges against themselves."

The woman looked angry: "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm leaving. Goodbye!"

She pushed open the coffee shop door forcefully—

"Number four, South Park, nine o'clock in the morning." Chi Que's casual remark made the woman stop immediately.

"Number seven, Green Deer Hotel, three o'clock in the afternoon," he continued, paused, and then said, "Third floor."

"Number Thirteen—" Before he could finish speaking, the woman abruptly interrupted him, sitting back down opposite Chi Que. "What do you want?"

Chi Que looked at her: "Madam, you don't want your husband to find out about your relationship, do you?"

......

Chi Que picked up the Americano, which finally had the right amount of sweetness, but before he could even bring it to his lips, a few slow claps rang out from behind the bar.

"Slap, slap, slap."

"Brilliant, brilliant!" The manager leaned against the bar. "Detective Chi has once again pulled off a stunning comeback against his employer."

Chi Que rolled his eyes at her and finished his coffee: "You can tell at a glance that this kind of person is stingy and mean-spirited. Even if I prove that her husband cheated on her, she will still deny it."

After all, he had seen far too many extraordinary people.

Miya, the manager of this coffee shop, looks to be in her early twenties. Her face combines the gentleness of a Chinese person with the sculpted features of a European. According to her, she is the legacy left by her father, a shipwright, in a certain European country.

As for whether others believe it or not?

Anyway, Chi Que didn't believe it.

Chi Que finished his coffee and went to the bar to pay: "How much?"

"Forty-eight," Miya replied.

Chi Que glanced at the price list on the wall, then looked down at his cup, and then looked up at the price list again: "Forty-eight?"

He pointed to the price list: "Isn't it twenty-eight?"

"That was last week's price," the shop owner said innocently. "Coffee beans have gone up in price, so costs have increased and prices have to go up too."

Chi Que stared at her, and Mi Ya returned his gaze with a sincere smile: "The global supply chain is strained; I'm a victim too—"

"Who are you trying to fool?" Chi Que slammed three ten-yuan bills on the bar counter. "The price has gone up by twenty yuan in just one week?! Then bring me last week's coffee beans!"

"The price really has gone up!" The shopkeeper took out a piece of paper from under the counter. "Look, the purchase order is still there."

"Alright, alright." Chi Que interrupted her, then pulled out another twenty-yuan note. "Forty-eight it is, but I won't come next time."

"You said the same thing last time," Miya complained. "And lately, everything is going up in price, even steamed buns are five yuan each, it's all because of the extreme weather."

Chi Que paused for a moment.

He said, "Why are steamed buns so expensive lately?"

"Extreme weather?" he repeated.

"Yeah, right." Miya shrugged. "Didn't you see the news? So many people died from the heat this summer, and so many people froze to death this winter. There are floods in the south, droughts in the north, wildfires in the west, and typhoons in the east. It's like they've gone crazy."

"When did you start paying attention to the news?" Chi Que didn't watch the news much; he preferred to rummage through old documents.

"I've always been concerned," Miya said, washing the cups. "A shop owner needs to know a little bit about everything."

Chi nodded, indicating a slight deficiency.

He walked to the door and placed his hand on the doorknob.

"Hey!" Miya called from behind, "Where are you going? Don't you have any other requests?"

Chi Que turned around: "Go investigate someone."

"Who are you investigating?" Miya asked curiously.

"That woman's lover."

"Why are you investigating him?"

"That guy has killed people."

There was a moment of silence in the coffee shop.

Miya chuckled, "Are you kidding? How do you know the other person has killed someone?"

"Every step leaves a trace," Chi Que said. "The difference between having killed and not having killed is obvious."

Miya fell silent: "...How many people have you witnessed killing?"

"That's enough." Chi Que didn't respond to that, after all, he only said it because he thought it sounded cool.

In fact, he used deductive reasoning.

Miya clicked her tongue: "Even if what you're saying is true, the police should handle it. Don't you have connections at the police station?"

"Yes," Chi Que said, "but something's strange about it."

"Strange?"

"In the past six months, at least a dozen murders have occurred in the city," Chi Que paused, "but they have all been suppressed."

Miya paused for a moment: "Suppress it? What do you mean?"

Chi Que said, "The higher-ups won't allow an investigation."

"My friend once revealed that every time he got a lead, someone would call and tell him to stop worrying about it."

Miya frowned: "This is too..."

Chi Que continued, "Moreover, the woman's lover is someone who suddenly became rich half a year ago. Before that, he had nothing, and then suddenly he became rich. He doesn't have a proper job, but he spends money like water."

"So?" The store manager tilted his head.

"I have to go take a look," Chi Que said.

"You..." Miya seemed to want to say something, but hesitated, "If what you said is true, that person might be a serial killer! For a detective to get involved in this kind of thing is just suicide!"

Chi Que pushed open the door and casually said, "You know, my idol is Sherlock Holmes."

The door closed behind him.

Miya stood there, staring at the door for a long time.