Qin Guan froze.
The front desk girl's words hit like a bomb detonating in his already turbulent mind.
She'd seen him?
Impossible.
He'd entered through the back door in the dead of night, unimpeded, with no one around—the lax management meant anyone could come and go unnoticed, key or not.
"He was here?" Detective He's gaze sharpened, shifting from Qin Guan to the girl. "When?"
Qin Guan's heart hammered against his ribs.
But he wasn't some greenhorn rattled by a mere accusation. After a split-second stiffness, his pale face regained composure. He met the girl's eyes calmly. "You saw me? Are you sure? When?"
"I… I'm not certain…"
Under his steady stare, the girl faltered. "It was… the day before yesterday? No, yesterday's early morning. I was in the restroom—the door doesn't lock—and I saw someone come in through the back…"
She had spotted him.
Qin Guan's pulse roared, but his expression remained unshaken. "You saw me? Look closely. Was it really me?"
He'd worn a mask, hat, and black clothes—recognition was impossible.
Sure enough, the girl frowned at his face, growing hesitant. "The figure… tall, like you. But I only saw a背影… I can't be sure…"
She'd lost her nerve.
Qin Guan's racing heart slowed. He turned to Detective He, earnest. "You might not believe me, but check the cameras—here, my neighborhood, the hospital. I'll cooperate. I wasn't here."
A hollow offer.
The hotel's cameras were decorative at best.
"I'll get them fixed today!" The owner feigned urgency, dialing loudly for the cops' benefit. "Hello? This is Qi Dahai from Xinhe Hotel! When are you coming to repair the surveillance?!"
Empty theatrics—why waste money on a doomed building?
No footage meant no proof Qin Guan had been there—a relief.
But it also erased evidence of Qi Min's stay.
A double-edged sword.
Qin Guan masked his frustration. Though Qi Min's presence would surface eventually, his priority now was exposing Xu Ruyi.
He showed the staff Xu Ruyi's photo. "This woman came looking for Qi Min. White dress, Chanel bag. You'd remember her."
The girls shook their heads. "Classy ladies like that don't stay here. We'd recall if she asked questions."
No trace of Xu Ruyi.
But Qin Guan wasn't defeated.
Every case relied on the iron triangle: witnesses, physical evidence, testimony. Among these, evidence reigned supreme.
Who had cleaned Qi Min's room? Not Qi Min herself—she was dead. Not Zeng Demei, who'd likely fled after the failed blackmail.
Xu Ruyi?
But she'd been hospitalized.
Her accomplice—Auntie Feng?
Unlikely. The dim-witted maid excelled at chores, not crime.
Did Xu Ruyi truly believe cleaning the room would erase everything?
One hair, one skin cell—that's all forensics needed to link Qi Min here, clearing Qin Guan's name in her earlier disappearance.
Yet hours of processing yielded nothing. No evidence at the hotel, no footage of Qin Guan leaving home.
Meanwhile, Li Yang got a break—a girl from another province reported receiving a WeChat from Qi Min a day prior, asking about job opportunities.
Qin Guan's doing.
After killing Qi Min, he'd meticulously staged this alibi.
Though unverified, the message bought him time. With his law firm's intervention, he was released—under watch.
Two officers tailed him home, parked outside, devouring takeout as they surveilled.
Qin Guan played the routine flawlessly: checked news (no developments), cooked steak, drank wine, bathed. He needed rest—the real battle was ahead.
Finally, he ordered delivery—soup for Xu Ruyi.
The model repentant husband, rebuilding his image.
Searching for a thermos, he rummaged through kitchen drawers.
In the grain compartment, a familiar packet caught his eye—crayfish seasoning.
Auntie Feng's favorite. Xu Ruyi had bought some recently.
But these packets weren't local—last seen when Feng's son visited from the north.
Qin Guan's fingers tightened around the packaging.
A clue.