Qin Guan couldn't believe his ears.
The officer's words were definitive—no fingerprints, no hair, no trace of Qi Min in Xinhe Hotel's Room 201. They wouldn't lie. If evidence existed, they'd act on it.
But how?
That night, Qi Min had greeted him in pajamas. The room had been strewn with her belongings—clothes, toiletries, laundry hung in the bathroom. She'd clearly stayed for days. No one could erase all traces.
He'd left the bed unmade intentionally, ensuring investigators would find hairs and skin cells. He'd even kept her toothbrush to mimic her habits, though he'd later disposed of it.
"The bathroom had a toothcup, scrubbed clean with bleach," the young officer said, eyes drilling into him.
Qin Guan stiffened. During his second visit to the hotel with Detective He, he'd noticed the overpowering bleach smell. Someone had sanitized the room.
Xu Ruyi.
She'd faked injuries to frame Qi Min, denied knowing her whereabouts, and now—somehow—purged the room of evidence. But how? A spoiled heiress who shuddered at crime stories?
His fingers twitched toward his mouth—a childhood tic long suppressed. Coughing, he rubbed his nose to mask the tremor.
"You're saying Qi Min stayed there, then some stranger cleaned up after her?" The officer scoffed. "A fairy godmother scrubbing floors to sabotage your alibi? Who'd even know your story?"
They didn't believe him.
"Captain He's orders: detain him?" The harsher cop eyed his partner.
Panic surged. Another interrogation would derail his counterattack.
"It's my wife," Qin Guan blurted. "Xu Ruyi. She's behind this."
He painted her as the mastermind—breaking her nose to frame Qi Min, erasing evidence to invalidate his alibi. "Check her accomplice: Xiao Zhi, Auntie Feng's son. He studies biology up north. He'd know how to sanitize a crime scene."
The cops perked up. As the hostile officer relayed the lead, Qin Guan moved to write Xiao Zhi's details.
The study desk drawer was locked—unusual. Fetching a knife from the kitchen, he tripped over the rice cooker's cord, kicking the trash bin.
No bag inside, but beside it lay a small yellow plastic pouch labeled "Yijia Noodle Shop"—a decades-old spot near Jiayuan known for hand-pulled noodles and braised pork bones.
Qin Guan froze. Xu Ruyi loved that place, as had her parents. But she hadn't returned here since their deaths.
Why was this here?
As he reached for the door, his mother-in-law's ghostly words echoed: "We need to make a will… There's something I must say…"