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Yao Lan lived on the second floor of Unit Six in the Public Security Bureau’s first residential compound.
Both her parents were alive, and their family had a… rather free-spirited style.
Yao Lan’s father’s surname was Lan, but Yao Lan took her mother’s surname instead.
The story behind this arrangement? Apparently, it was decided by a best-of-five rock-paper-scissors match. Her mother won fair and square.
During her rebellious teenage years, Yao Lan fell into a phase of middle-school angst. She became obsessed with unusual yet aesthetically pleasing surnames and scolded her father for his loss: “You lost at rock-paper-scissors! What a waste—a beautiful surname like mine, and now you’ve completely botched it!”
Her father protested, “I tried my best! Look, I even added my surname too!”
Yao Lan retorted, “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
Of course, Yao Lan didn’t dwell on the surname issue for long. After her brief phase of teenage rebellion ended, she entered the stage of youthful infatuation. The unfortunate object of her affection? Sworn enemy-turned-crush, Chu Yang, who lived across the hall.
Speaking of Chu Yang, let’s briefly introduce the situation of Unit Six.
As they grew older, some families moved out of Unit Six, leaving only three households behind.
Yao Lan’s family on the second floor, Chu Yang’s family, and Du Yi’s family on the third floor.
Yao Lan was a girl, while Chu Yang and Du Yi were boys—and coincidentally, all three were born on the same day, month, and year.
During childhood, Yao Lan was mischievous and found Chu Yang’s quiet demeanor boring. He was as delicate as a porcelain doll—too dull for her taste. Instead, she preferred the wild and unruly Du Yi.
But during puberty, everything changed based on appearances.
Oh my goodness, how handsome Chu Yang was! Pale skin, jet-black hair, tall and slender, with sharp eyes and long lashes. The colder his expression, the more her heart fluttered.
Thus, Yao Lan spent her days pining for Chu Yang. She couldn’t focus on her studies; her eyes would drift toward him whenever she opened a book.
After her infatuation phase passed, Yao Lan shifted her attention away from boys and threw herself into video games, becoming hopelessly addicted.
Once she started working, Yao Lan and Du Yi became partners.
By coincidence, Chu Yang’s father fell for Du Yi’s mother. Both widowed for many years, they quickly hit it off, held a small wedding, got their marriage certificate, and moved Chu Yang’s father to the third floor. Du Yi was sent down to live with Chu Yang, and the two brothers shared a room.
As a result, after work, Yao Lan rarely went home. Instead, she spent most of her time at Chu Yang’s place, playing video games with Du Yi in the living room.
Back then, they played on game consoles. Each held a controller, chewing on lollipops while cursing and competing fiercely.
Their targets ranged widely—from scumbags to the chief, no one was spared.
Meanwhile, Chu Yang was still in school. Unfortunately for him, he’d chosen to study forensic science, so while Yao Lan and Du Yi were already working, he was still struggling in the ocean of academia.
Thus, the daily routine of the three residents of Unit Six was as follows: Yao Lan and Du Yi played video games in the living room, while Chu Yang sat in his bedroom under a dim light, headphones on, reading books.
Du Yi called him “Brother” effortlessly, but his words were anything but kind: “Hey, Yao-er, isn’t my brother just the dullest, most boring guy ever? Like a decorative vase.”
“That’s called being deep,” Yao Lan replied. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“He’s no good.” Du Yi crunched on his lollipop and said, “My dad told my mom once that he barely passed a 1,500-meter test.”
Yao Lan sneered, “Typical bookworm behavior.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, both felt a chill run down their spines. They turned around, their hairs standing on end.
Chu Yang stood silently behind them, staring at them with an icy gaze.
“Oh, done reading?” Yao Lan feigned nonchalance and greeted him casually.
Chu Yang shot them a cold glare before retreating back into his room.
“Colder than a refrigerator,” Du Yi muttered. “I wonder if he heard us.”
“Nope, he had his headphones on.”
A year later, Chu Yang graduated and became a forensic pathologist.
Three years after that, Yao Lan and Du Yi joined the Major Crimes Unit as detective partners.
And Chu Yang? He became their most frequent victim of teasing.
The forensic beauty—cold, aloof, and as lifeless as a corpse.
Many joked about him, but few dared to act on it. The reason? Chu Yang was as frigid as a glacier, almost never spoke, and could spend entire days holed up in the forensic lab unless he was hungry. It was as if studying those mutilated corpses somehow satisfied him.
Yao Lan thought, “This can’t do.”
So every day at lunch, she brought him a meal, placing it outside the forensic lab window. After a while, when she checked again, the food was gone, the box washed and dried, with a thank-you note attached.
Yao Lan pocketed the note and, during their ride home that evening, sat in the passenger seat folding it into a heart shape and carefully storing it.
Then, every day, there was a new note, each written on differently colored paper.
Whenever someone remarked that Chu Yang was as cold as ice, Yao Lan secretly smirked: “You have no idea. Chu Yang is so cute! The colors of the little notes change every day!”
When the bottle was half-filled with stars and hearts folded from colorful strips of paper, the team faced an evaluation.
Chu Yang, the forensic examiner who always ranked last in shooting tests, entered another bout of depression.
This time, Yao Lan decided to take action.
She invited him to the training range to practice target shooting.
Though usually carefree, Yao Lan was serious and strict when teaching something she loved.
On the day of training, under the blazing sun, Chu Yang stood sweating as Yao Lan made him hold his gun steady for an hour. Beads of sweat slid down his neck, disappearing beneath his tightly buttoned collar. Yao Lan’s gaze followed, swallowing the drool threatening to spill.
That night, Yao Lan drove him home. Exhausted, Chu Yang sprawled across the backseat, his arm covering his eyes. The curve of his neck, the prominent Adam’s apple, and his long legs bent at the knees made Yao Lan’s heart race. Her mind wandered, and the car swerved erratically on the road.
Once home, she had barely calmed down when her father lit the fuse: “Yao-er, tell me honestly—who’s caught your eye?”
“Huh?”
“Little Du or Little Chu? Who’s the one?”
Yao Lan retorted, “What are you planning? Are you going to pick whichever one I like as my future son-in-law?”
Her father glared. “Whoever you like, be loyal and chase them wholeheartedly! Don’t string them along!”
“I’m not!” Yao Lan protested. “I’ve got my priorities straight! Du Yi’s my buddy, and Chu Yang’s my…”
Her parents leaned in eagerly. “What?”
“My dream lover!” Yao Lan declared proudly.
Her father snorted. “Forget it. Little Du might have a chance, but Little Chu? No way. He doesn’t even acknowledge you—he probably thinks you’re annoying.”
Yao Lan countered, “Annoying? Then why does he eat the meals I bring, leave thank-you notes, and call me on his rare days off to ask where I am? Why does he even ask if I want jelly when he goes to the supermarket?”
“I’m not unrequited!” Yao Lan insisted.
Her father snapped, “Can you stop saying ‘damn’ every other word? Is that how a police officer should behave?!”
Yao Lan stormed off to her room, sparing her parents the trouble of kicking her out.
Closing the door behind her, she began to reflect.
How much of her feelings for Chu Yang were genuine? Was she attracted to his face, or to him as a person?
Soon, an opportunity to test this came knocking.
One night, there was an incident at People’s Road Square. When Yao Lan and Du Yi arrived, they discovered that Chu Yang was the one facing off against the criminals. Yao Lan floored the gas pedal, ramming into the thug. The sudden jolt caused her and Du Yi, who hadn’t been wearing seat belts, to smash into the windshield, leaving them bloody and bruised.
Yet, her first instinct was to fling open the car door, grab the unharmed Chu Yang, and ask tremulously, “Are you okay? Did he cut you?”
Du Yi, covered in blood, stumbled out, protesting loudly: “Damn it, Captain! You’re seriously favoring him over me! Now I know where I stand—with a busted forehead, I’m still less important than one of his hairs. Truly heartbreaking.”
At that moment, Yao Lan’s heart sank. Oh no.
Damn it. This was bad.
I might actually be in love with Chu Yang.
And not just with his face—this level of attachment went deeper.
A few days later, Chu Yang fell ill. It was a minor cold, accompanied by a slight fever.
After work, Yao Lan visited him. Pushing open his bedroom door, she suddenly felt as if his bed was glowing.
There it was—the treasure she had been searching for, right in front of her eyes. If she didn’t claim it now, some evil dragon might snatch it away.
Yao Lan walked over, stood by his bedside, and gave a formal bow.
Chu Yang lowered his book and asked, “What are you doing?”
“…Something big.”
Yao Lan pulled out a pair of handcuffs and swiftly locked the treasure in place. She climbed onto the bed.
“Of course, I still need to ask—are you willing?”
Chu Yang deadpanned, “You’re in uniform. Behave yourself.”
Yao Lan twisted his words: “I’ll take that as permission. And since you didn’t tell me to get off, I’ll take it as consent to undress.”
Lifting his chin, Yao Lan grinned like a cat. Chu Yang narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue.
“If you’re allowing this, then I won’t hold back.”
She leaned in to kiss him, but Chu Yang dodged slightly. “I’m sick.”
“I’m not. Let me cure you.”
“Then unlock the handcuffs.”
“No, I’m afraid you’ll run away.”
Just then, Du Yi returned from dinner on the third floor and, as usual, knocked on Chu Yang’s door. “Bro, do you want to eat? Mom made braised fish today. Are you hungry?”
Fortunately, his hand was slower than his mouth—or else he would’ve walked in on a crime scene.
From inside, Yao Lan’s voice rang out, hoarse and irritated: “Damn it, can you knock first?!”
Du Yi shouted back, “Damn it, what the hell are you doing in my brother’s room?!”
A muffled groan came from inside, making Du Yi blush furiously.
He turned and yelled, “DAD!!!!!! YAO LAN SLEPT WITH MY BROTHER!!!”
That evening, in the hallway of the second floor of Unit Six, Yao Lan crouched obediently, enduring a lecture from both sets of parents and three families.
“Where’s the key to the handcuffs?”
“…I can’t find it.”
“How can you lose it?!”
“…It might’ve fallen on the bed. Ask Chu Yang to look for it.”
“Chu Yang’s handcuffed!”
“Oh…” Yao Lan said sheepishly. “Then find me a piece of wire—I’ll try to pick the lock.”
Yao Lan’s father scolded, “Behave yourself and reflect properly!”
With that, he went into the room to check on Chu Yang.
Chu Yang’s clothes were disheveled, and his wrists bore red marks from the handcuffs. His eyes were closed, his expression as unreadable as ever.
“Uh… Chu Yang,” Yao Lan’s father began awkwardly, his face red. “About what Yao Lan did… well, it might’ve been impulsive, but we’re not shirking responsibility…”
His words grew increasingly awkward.
Chu Yang interrupted calmly, “Mm-hmm. I’ll marry her.”
Yao Lan’s father nearly choked: “Are you delirious from being slept with?!”
Suddenly, Chu Yang laughed—a rare sight akin to the sun rising in the west or rivers flowing backward.
Chu Yang: “I sentence her to life imprisonment. Uncle, I want to marry her and watch her serve her sentence.”
From the doorway, Yao Lan chimed in, “Listen carefully—I’m warning you. Don’t regret this. It’s not just a life sentence. I’ll damn well rot in jail for you!”
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