A dead end. An inescapable loop.
This was an unsolvable knot.
Qin Guan finally understood.
Despair and chaos pressed down on his head, his shoulders, bending his tall frame until his chest tightened, breathless.
How could he break this stalemate?
He'd handled countless tough cases, yet never felt so powerless. It reminded him of childhood…
In third grade, weeks after school had started, he'd stood at the doorway clutching a battered bucket for feeding pigs, watching classmates walk to school. Their laughter and chatter drifted from the distant campus—a place he knew but couldn't reach.
Teachers visited three or four times, urging his alcoholic father: "Your boy's smart! Send him to school—it's a waste otherwise!"
His father would grunt noncommittally, then chase him with a stick once they left. "School? School? What's the damn use? I never went, and I'm fine! You just wanna laze around! 'Smart'? I know what you are—my rotten seed!"
The stick rained down on his head, back, shoulders. Pain. Nowhere to hide.
His deranged mother sat by the door, matted hair reeking, giggling as he was beaten. He'd hide in weeds or the pigsty until his father passed out drunk.
Countless nights, he traced his bruises on the hilltop, staring at the school. Every cell in his body screamed helplessness.
He hated his home, his parents, his life.
He wanted to study. To live the "clean, beautiful life" the teacher described.
Miraculously, that year—his darkest—he met a savior.
Xu Ruyi's father.
Qin Guan would never forget their first meeting.
Late October, chilly. School had been in session for two months. He'd given up hope.
Then his teacher brought a kind-faced man to their shack.
"Mr. Xu, this is Qin Guan." The teacher pointed to him, soot-covered by the stove. "Top of his class every term. A born scholar. Qin Guan, tell Mr. Xu your situation. He'll help."
Qin Guan barely remembered his stammered words. He was too awed by the man's appearance: navy trousers with fine pinstripes, crisp white shirt, emerald-green blazer, glasses, a sleek watch. Tall, clean, smiling—nothing like the grime-filled world Qin Guan knew.
A city person.
This was the life he craved: clean clothes, polished shoes, sitting in the car parked outside.
The man flipped through his tattered homework, patted his shoulder. "You love studying, don't you? I'll help."
That day, Qin Guan received new clothes, a backpack, books. The man promised his father monthly stipends for school.
Most money became liquor, but Qin Guan finally returned to class.
Xu Ruyi's father had saved him.
Now, who would save Qin Guan?
His eyes burned. He felt like that boy again—small, alone on the hill. Back then, he'd begged teachers until they contacted Mr. Xu. That rescue, he'd fought for.
Now?
He lifted his gaze, pleading, to his lifeline—Xu Ruyi. She leaned against the bed, sipping water through a straw Auntie Feng held.
She made no move to save him.
Hearing Old He's demands, she frowned innocently. "Qin Guan? What's wrong? The officers have called you so many times."
Her voice dripped feigned concern. "If you know something about Xinhe Hotel, just tell them. We'll handle our problems… later."