Deadly Detective

A gentle breeze brushed against the face, and the blazing sunlight bathed the land of Coastal City. Today was a rare day of fine weather, and after the disasters earlier this year—tsunamis, landslides, fires, and epidemics—each calamity followed the last in quick succession, as if the world had started on hell mode. So a day with such a gentle breeze felt almost too good to be true.

It was already near noon, and though it wasn’t the weekend, many people were still resting in bed. In a room that was far from shabby, a man lay sprawled out, enjoying his rare day off. As a detective, his routine was the opposite of most: when others rested, he worked; when others worked, he was busiest. Every day off was precious, to be cherished.

Of course, his phone had to remain on around the clock.

“I only wish to protect every moment of beauty—” The phone’s melodious ringtone sounded, the song brimming with positivity and stirring the heart. The man on the bed, eyes still closed, reached out with his right hand and groped for the phone. When he finally answered, his voice was lazy and languid.

“Hello?”

“Wu Zui, wake up! There’s a murder in Central Park—two dead, one wounded! Get back here, quick!”

A man’s anxious voice came from the phone. Instantly, the last remnants of sleep evaporated from Wu Zui’s mind.

“Ten minutes! I’m heading straight there!” Wu Zui replied, ending the call. He sprang from the bed, a red sword-shaped tattoo flashed across his left chest, and he quickly dressed before dashing downstairs.

A screech of tires on asphal