Chapter 61 Playing with Fire
Qin Guan stood frozen, his body rigid, too stunned to even grab the repair shop owner.
"The kid's almost late! What are you dawdling for?" The owner's wife shoved him, one hand gripping their child's backpack. "If the teacher calls about his tardiness, you answer!"
"My husband's taking the kid to school! He'll be back soon!" She turned to Officer He with an apologetic smile. "No choice—they won't let him in if he's late! I can't ride the electric bike. Last time I tried picking him up, we both crashed. He won't let me touch it now! Quit standing around—hurry up!"
The owner climbed onto the electric bike with his son and sped off, swallowing the odd phone story.
Questions churned in his gut: Why would a customer rush to pick up a key, then forget? Why insist on call reminders if her phone was off? Why demand detailed texts if an assistant checked them?
In his decades running the shop, he'd never met someone so baffling. But his wife was right—odd customers were part of life. "Serve them, take the money, keep your mouth shut." Survival left no room for curiosity.
After dropping his son at school, he received a WeChat from his wife: Stay out awhile. They're still here! She'd sent him away to muzzle his loose tongue—a lifelong flaw.
Obediently, he parked at a老乡's breakfast joint. Too busy to chat, the couple let him pour himself豆浆. Sipping it roadside, his mind circled back to Qi Min.
He'd called her number repeatedly—no answer, just as she'd warned. Dialing the alternate number she'd used, a confused man answered: "A girl borrowed my phone yesterday. Skinny, no name. You know her?"
Following instructions, he'd bombarded her number with texts: Your key's ready. When are you coming?
Hot soybean milk warmed his throat. The rare quiet almost felt like "thinking"—a word that startled him. A third-grade dropout, what did he know? Maybe the lawyer truly was busy, forgetful, reliant on reminders.
Shut your trap! If the shop closes, how do we pay rent?! His wife's new message snapped him back. Right—stay quiet, stay safe.
Returning to the shop calmer, he reiterated to Officer He: "That's all. I called her number, sent texts. You saw the messages!" He pointed at Qin Guan, now statue-like by the police car—pale, rigid, shattered.
The owner stayed clear. Whatever storm brewed, he wouldn't drown in it.
"Thanks for your help!" Officer He clapped him jovially. "We'll reach out if needed. Car troubles, yeah?"
Approaching Qin Guan, his tone hardened. "Not keen to ride? Last time, no cuffs—no evidence. Now?" He gripped Qin Guan's arm. "You had Qi Min's phone? Her missing three weeks, yet you had it? Explain that at the station!"
Qin Guan couldn't.
Slumped in the speeding car, he felt dragged into a vortex. His plan to frame Xu Ruyi with the key had backfired spectacularly. Exhaustion and the women's mind games had blinded him to fatal flaws.
The vehicle swerved, jostling his limp body. Dry-mouthed, his thoughts unraveled.
He hadn't killed Qi Min at the lakehouse—it was her trap. But how to explain? "We hooked up, played choking games. I thought I killed her, dumped the body, kept her phone to text her fiancé Li Yang…"
Impossible.
Yet without that confession, how else to justify having her "missing" phone?
The fire he'd meant for Xu Ruyi now consumed him.