A real killer playing a villain; the guy surnamed Zhen in Detective, run!

Lu Yuan took another sip of water.

"You must have received a lot in compensation. How long did that downstairs household cause trouble? The mediation records for the property management dispute should still be available."

The landlord choked on his cigarette, coughing four or five times. The cigarette fell from between his fingers onto the coffee table, burning a black spot.

The real estate agent's professional smile finally crumbled; his mouth gaped open as he looked at the landlord and then at Lu Yuan.

The landlord forced himself to straighten up, his eyes glaring at Lu Yuan. "You...how could you—"

"Brother Liu, let's get back to the rent." Lu Yuan walked to the coffee table, leaned forward a little, and placed the thermos on the glass.

"This house has been vacant for at least five months. Five months of vacancy, plus property costs, based on the average price in this area, means the sunk cost is roughly between eight and ten thousand."

"The paint you used for the renovation was Dulux's low-end line, costing less than two thousand including labor and materials. However, you only painted the problematic wall and ceiling, which indicates that your budget was already tight."

He twisted the lid of the thermos very slowly.

"I suggest you rephrase the statement that three white-collar workers from foreign companies lined up to view the apartment this afternoon. The property management fee collection rate in this community is less than 60%, and the elevators break down frequently. White-collar workers from foreign companies won't come here."

The landlord leaned back against the sofa back, shifting slightly.

I put my leg down, which was crossed over me.

"1500. One month's rent as deposit, one month's rent in advance. Property management fees, pet damage, and other losses are all covered." Lu Yuan tightened the lid of his thermos and placed it next to the contract. "I'll transfer the money on the spot, saving you several months of vacancy losses. If you don't agree, you can keep this house and wait until that repaired pipe in the wall is blown up again."

The landlord's forehead was wet.

"Fifteen thousand..." The landlord's voice dropped an octave, "That's too much—"

"1,500 is very fair," Lu Yuan said gently. "Think about it again, the sooner this house is rented out, the more money we'll make."

The landlord wanted to refute, but didn't know how.

He pulled a ballpoint pen from the drawer and crossed out the "3800" in the rent column, writing "1500" next to it. Deposit terms, crossed out. Pet damage, crossed out. Property management, crossed out.

My hand was shaking as I signed.

Lu Yuan took the contract, read it through, and confirmed that no clauses were missing. He then took out his phone, scanned the QR code, and transferred the money.

"Brother Liu, it's a pleasure doing business with you."

He reached out his hand to the landlord.

The landlord squeezed the hand briefly and then released it, the sweat from his palm smearing onto his polo shirt. He still didn't understand how the man knew his surname was Liu.

The agent left last, glancing back at Lu Yuan with a mixture of confusion, awe, and bewilderment.

Lu Yuan and Lao Liu were left in the living room.

Lu Yuan sat down on the sofa, the spring creaking softly. He looked around. Sixty-two square meters, facing south, the leaves of the plane trees outside rustling in the wind. Sunlight streamed in through the gap in the slightly ajar curtains, drawing a bright line on the concrete floor.

The sixth dog jumped onto the sofa armrest, put its front paws on it, flicked its tail twice, and then lay down.

"Alright." Lu Yuan ruffled the cat's hair. "This is our home now."

---

At the same time. Municipal Public Security Bureau Criminal Investigation Division, third-floor conference room.

The curtains were drawn tightly shut. The projection screen emitted a cold, white light, illuminating eight faces.

Jiang Yan stood beside the screen, holding the remote control in her hand, her fingernails digging a small crescent moon out of the edge of the rubber button.

The lineup below the stage consisted of five core experts in criminal psychology, plus two behavioral analysis specialists seconded from the provincial department. The leader, Lao Qi, had been doing criminal profiling for thirty years; the case files he had handled were stacked higher than he was.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the unedited original footage obtained from the crew of 'Black Gold'. The person involved, Lu Yuan, is 24 years old, a former extra in Hengdian, with no criminal record and no suspicious social connections."

She pressed play.

Interrogation room scene. Lu Yuan leans against the corner of the wall, his body sliding down the wall. His gaze passes over the camera, over everyone, looking at a place that doesn't exist.

The air conditioner in the conference room was running, and the white noise from the air vents became particularly clear.

Eight people were staring at the screen.

The last frame. Lu Yuan's lips twitched slightly, and the image froze.

The conference room lights were turned back on.

Old Qi put his pen on the report and leaned back in his chair.

"Captain Jiang."

"This is not acting."

Old Qi pointed to the red circle on the report with his index finger. "When a person faces the threat of death, the pupillary dilation reflex and the slight tremor of the orbicularis oculi muscle cannot be controlled by willpower. These are hardware-level reactions controlled by the autonomic nervous system, and no amount of training can bypass them."

He pushed the report to the center of the table.

"The young man's condition in the footage—stable pupils, zero tremors in the orbicularis oculi muscle, and respiratory rate and heart rate inferred from changes in the microcirculation of his facial skin—indicates that he is at a completely resting state. There is only one explanation for this."

Old Qi picked up his water glass and took a sip.

"He crossed the line between life and death multiple times. The repeated, high-frequency, and long-term extreme survival pressure completely burned through the neural pathways of fear. The professional term is pathological emotional desensitization. His psychological threshold for death is not high, it's nonexistent."

The behavioral analyst next to him chimed in, "Old Qi, if it's a professional actor who has undergone long-term training—"

"Impossible." Old Qi shook his head. "Acting can simulate emotional states, but it can't simulate autonomic nervous system indicators. Even if you brought Daniel Day-Lewis, he couldn't achieve zero pupil reflexes."

The meeting room fell silent again.

Jiang Yan placed the remote control on the table.

"Hazard level recommendation?"

Old Qi picked up a pen, wrote three words in the last column of the profile report, and pushed it back.

The words in red read: "Extremely Dangerous".

......

Nine days after filming wrapped on "Black Gold," in an old residential area in the south of the city, on the third floor.

Lu Yuan pushed the last piece of tofu from the spatula into the enamel basin, turned off the heat, and casually wiped the oil spots off the stove.

The sixth dog squatted on top of the refrigerator, its tail drooping down and swaying.

The leaves of the plane trees outside the window rustled in the wind, and sunlight streamed in, casting a long strip on the floor. Lu Yuan carried the enamel basin into the living room and placed it on the coffee table.

A piece of tofu and a dish of soy sauce—that's my lunch today.

The sixth cat jumped down from the top of the refrigerator, stepped on slippers, newspapers, and an unopened bag of cat litter, and finally jumped onto the coffee table, nudging the tofu with its nose twice.

"It's not yours." Lu Yuan used chopsticks to push the cat's head away.

Time passed very slowly.

There was no film set, no gun barrels, and no interrogation lights. Occasionally, the sounds of old men playing chess and bickering could be heard outside the window, and someone in the next unit was stewing pork ribs, their range hood humming.

Good.

The other side of the city.

Su Qinghan's studio is on the top floor of the creative park, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering views of most of the city's skyline.

She hasn't slept for forty-eight hours.