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Ji Xin Shui, the ex-director of Donghai University’s research institute and Xu Yun’s mentor, had introduced Xu Yun to his future wife. However, he had controversially kicked Xu Yun out of the institute over his work on hibernation.

Ji Xin Shui was connected to the mysterious deaths of both Xu Yun and Tang Xin.

To Lin Xian, Ji Xin Shui was just another puppet master like Zhou Duan Yun. Since Ji Lin shared Ji Xin Shui’s last name, Lin Xian suspected they were related and possibly working together.

Now, Ji Lin was openly discussing their relationship…

What was his goal? Was this a test? A trap? Or just a way to see what Lin Xian knew?

Debating seemed pointless now. Ji Lin had asked a question, and Lin Xian needed to answer quickly.

After thinking it over quickly, Lin Xian decided to acknowledge his knowledge. “Yes, I know him.”

“Really? From where? The news?” Ji Lin seemed interested.

“Tang Xin mentioned him,” Lin Xian said calmly. “At our high school reunion around New Year’s, she told us she was going to work at a research institute in Donghai, invited by a well-known person—Ji Xin Shui, Xu Yun’s mentor. She spoke well of him in our later talks, even mentioned how her colleagues had helped her find other jobs, like one with a symphony orchestra.”

Lin Xian thought it risky to pretend he didn’t know anything around Ji Lin, who was smart and calculating. If Ji Lin had orchestrated everything involving Xu Yun’s and Tang Xin’s deaths and the invite to the investigation team, then denying knowledge of Ji Xin Shui could be risky and pointless. It was safer to be honest, especially since Tang Xin had really talked about him.

“So, you’re Ji Xin Shui’s adopted child?” Lin Xian asked directly. “And I’m confused about your connection to Xu Yun. The sister you mentioned, is she his biological daughter or adopted?”

“She’s his niece, but we grew up together.”

“You said you were raised in Ji Xin Shui’s orphanage. How did his niece end up there?”

“Our family is complicated,” Ji Lin replied, his eyes on the ceiling. “Ji Xin Shui never married and focused on his career. He adopted many kids and had them raised in the orphanage, leaving the smarter ones with servants and relatives. My sister raised me.”

Lin Xian nodded, taking in the complexity of Ji Lin’s family. Ji Lin’s parents had died in the 00:42 shooting incident. After their death, Ji Xin Shui adopted Ji Lin, and he was raised by Ji Xin Shui’s niece, who later married Xu Yun and had a child, Xu Yi Yi. After a tragedy, Xu Yi Yi was left incapacitated, and a falling-out between Xu Yun and Ji Xin Shui led to their deaths, bringing Ji Lin to Donghai.

But Lin Xian was mostly focused on the pattern of deaths at 00:42. It was interesting that Ji Lin’s parents also died at this specific time, but not in a car crash. This suggested that the killers weren’t just causing accidents. Realizing this, Lin Xian understood that just avoiding roads at that time might not keep him safe.

“Were your parents scientists too? What were they studying?”

“They were mathematicians,” Ji Lin answered. “But they were young and hadn’t done much twenty years ago. I was too young to understand their research.”

“This is what puzzles me,” Lin Xian thought aloud. “My parents weren’t as famous as Xu Yun or Tang Xin, and their deaths weren’t typical accidents. Around the world, on average, 106 people die every minute for various reasons.”

Ji Lin checked his glowing smartwatch. “It’s now 00:43. In the past minute, about 106 people died globally. While some might have been accidents, we can’t assume every accidental death at 00:42 involves these killers. Since joining the investigation team in Donghai, there’s been a gas explosion and a serious car crash exactly at 00:42—these incidents could seem connected, but if we look at global stats, numerous accidents happen at this time every day.”

Listening to Ji Lin, Lin Xian nodded. He had also researched online about 00:42 car accidents, finding a lot of data. Considering the global population of 7 billion, it’s not surprising that many fatal accidents happen every minute. But what was Ji Lin trying to say? Was he suggesting that the specific timing of 00:42 wasn’t as significant as it seemed?

“Lin Xian, I’d like to hear your thoughts,” Ji Lin suddenly asked. “Do you think the same people who killed my parents are behind Xu Yun and Tang Xin’s deaths?”

Lin Xian closed his eyes, sensing a possible trap in the question. From what he knew, Ji Lin’s parents’ deaths were connected to their careers as mathematicians. Similarly, Big Cat Face’s father, also a mathematician, had died tragically. This pattern of dying at 00:42 now included four scientists. Yet, outside of their circle, there was no public record of mathematicians specifically dying at 00:42. Speaking his mind could raise suspicion.

“I don’t think so,” Lin Xian replied after a moment. “The scientists in Donghai were focused on hibernation. It seems those in that field are the main targets. If your parents were mathematicians, they don’t fit the pattern. Also, the ways they died are very different—a shooting versus a car crash. Car crashes can better hide the killers’ motives, while shootings are too obvious.”

Ji Lin watched Lin Xian’s face closely, then finally nodded. “I agree,” he said, wrapping his blanket around him. “It’s late. Let’s get some sleep.”

Over the next few days, under Ji Lin’s leadership, the special investigation team increased their efforts. They detailed the suspects’ profiles, outlined specific criminal behaviors, and focused on spotting potential targets among hibernation scientists. They planned to set a trap the next time a relevant scientist was in Donghai at 00:42, aiming to catch the criminals and bring them to justice.

Lin Xian was surprised by the progress. Initially, he had thought Ji Lin was on the team to disrupt their work. But Ji Lin was doing the opposite: he was diligently clarifying the case details and setting strategic traps for the killers.

Lin Xian’s strategy was similar—ambush the criminals at the crime scene, making sure their vehicle couldn’t escape. Past failures happened because the culprits’ vehicles vanished without a trace. By blocking potential escape routes, they could capture the drivers and potentially end the murder spree.

But as Lin Xian twirled his pen and watched Ji Lin present at the meeting table, doubts remained. Was Ji Lin involved himself? If they caught the driver, would Ji Lin, along with Ji Xin Shui and Zhou Duan Yun, the suspected masterminds, really avoid being blamed?

Meanwhile, at Chu Shan He’s mansion, in the dining room, a family dinner was happening. Su Xiu Ying served Chu Shan He a bowl of soup. “It’s been days, and there’s no news from Su Su. How did her date with Lin Xian go? Did it work out?”

Chu Shan He chuckled. “Let the young ones handle it. Too much probing might pressure Lin Xian. Relationships need a natural connection. If it’s meant to be, it will happen. If not, we can’t force it.”

“Probably didn’t work,” Chu An Qing snorted. “Aunt Su has never been the dating type. She’s always shunned boys, and when she interacted with them, it was usually to outdo them in some competition. She’s hardly the type to settle down. Besides, Lin Xian, with his refined demeanor, wouldn’t match well with someone as wild and spontaneous as Aunt Su. It’s a mismatch.”

“Not necessarily,” Su Xiu Ying smiled. “I know Su Su well. In the past, she stormed off from every blind date, cursing and fuming. But this time, she came back late, sober, and had spent the evening with Lin Xian, talking for hours. When she got home, she was unusually calm, just mentioned the date was over and asked me to unlock her bank card as we agreed, then left quietly.”

“What? Aunt Su said nothing more?” Chu An Qing was surprised. “That’s so unlike her. Something’s off.”

“Every pot has its lid. Let’s not interfere too much,” Chu Shan He advised, putting down his chopsticks. “It’s normal for there to be no news. Lin Xian’s been assigned to the Donghai Public Security Bureau, working on the special investigation team for the Xu Yun case. He’s very busy, living in the dorms, rarely able to go out.”

“That busy?” Chu An Qing looked concerned.

“It’s unavoidable,” Chu Shan He replied. “The pressure on Donghai Public Security is immense. With two consecutive scientist murders and no leads, everyone’s stressed, hoping to break the case or at least find some clue. So yes, Lin Xian and his team are swamped.”

“I understand…” Chu An Qing took her phone, opened Lin Xian’s profile, and checked his social media—no updates for days. Their chat history was just as barren. She sent a message, hoping for a response. “Senior, still busy? Have you had dinner? Dad mentioned you were transferred to the special investigation team.”

Lin Xian responded quickly. “Not yet. Everyone else has gone to eat. Ji Lin and I are staying late to work.”

Ji Lin, of course. Chu An Qing knew him; he was not only a brilliant detective but also a well-known screenwriter. They had met at the New Year’s banquet, and her father often praised Ji Lin’s contributions to the investigation team.

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy,” Chu An Qing thought, seeing the leftover food in the kitchen. She packed meals for two. “I’m heading out for a bit!”