@peonyleader || ᴀ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ғᴏʟʟʏ ɪs ᴀ ғᴇʟᴏɴʏ cont.
Lan Zhan picks up the phone in the middle of the first ring. He presses it against his ear and waits for the caller to break the silence. The number is marked under Unknown but it doesn't take long for Wangji to figure out a sequence of numbers. The caller starts talking and his face pops up on a computer screen, followed by his date of birth, the three most recent places of residence, and of course, his full name. Lan Wangji waits for the anonymous tip's delivery, narrowing his eyes at the digital display before saying the caller's name back to him. The connection falls silent again. Lan Wangji senses the growing tension but does not interrupt the static. It goes on for ten minutes before the caller inquires how the other man was able to catch him so fast. Truth is, Lan Wangji does not discriminate between a prank call or a confession masked under a police tip. When his phone rings without a registered name, his computer screen becomes a canvas of a potential crime scene. The man who reported a body today is the killer they have been looking for. That is what differentiates between police enforcement and the Gusu Lan Private Investigator located far away from the city's spotlight.
The phone call drops but it is far too late. The confessor wasted time in his stupor, a move Lan Zhan uses quite often. He began to suspect that the majority of people caught red-handed by hearing their name apply the same psychology: think first, then act. It wins the Lan detective a couple seconds to send the local police department a message with a geographical location. Even from his isolated office, Lan Wangji can almost hear the sirens howling like banshees as they catapult to the offered location. He does not like this city's enforcement all that much but ever since he took over the investigation department, as suggested by his older brother, things became different. The previous detective was a lazy piece of work. Lan Wangji does not let his co-workers waste time when they clock in from a break. Some like it, some don't; Wangji does not care.
When the phone rings again, the detective picks it up after a second ring. That is only because he took a sip from his coffee mug. The beverage is chilled from the overhead air conditioning units and Lan Zhan creases an eyebrow at the inconvenience and makes a mental note to deal with that later. He greets the new caller with the same quiet tension but the man on the other side of the phone knows Wangji's habit well.
"We have a situation." The Chief states plainly and delivers an address. Before Lan Wangji can wonder why should he care about this particular investigation, the Chief of the Downtown station delivers a trigger word: organized group. This time, Lan Wangji is the first to drop the line, already on his way out of his office. Behind him drags a silage of sandalwood and tender jasmine from the incense plumes circling his office. The hallway just outside is drenched in lime and orchids, a contrast that immediately gives Lan Zhan a headache. He grabs a holster with an empty socket, preferring to be given a gun on the scene after assessing the situation. A pair of headphones makes it into his ears as he sits down in his car and shuts off the radio. He steps on the gas and drives. No one will touch him on his way through the serpentine highways. They see the marble license plate of his car, and they know.
The Chief is grinning when Lan Wangji arrives and is met with a gilded, grim look. The detective is aware of downtown after hours, especially when he gets a call from the Chief of Police sounding happier than a man in his station is supposed to. He assumes they ran a background check already, considering the flagged anomaly of an organized crime. Mafia, felonious organizations, and gangs in general are usually Lan Wangji's specialty because he understands what it takes to create a wide network. He was involved in one for a while before a tragedy settled him in the chair he sits in today. Taking a folder offered by a greasy hand, Lan Wangji hides a grimace and flips it open. He makes eye contact with a delinquent he was really hoping not to deal with today. He knows the Chief is looking at his face, waiting for Lan Zhan to have a reaction because they know a history that isn't so easily buried. Wangji refuses to give the Chief such satisfaction, tucks the folder under his armpit and orders to be let into the interrogation room.
The door opens and Lan Wangji is coated by the bright lights. He is wearing a three-piece white suit with a pastel-blue tie tucked into his waistcoat. His long hair is brought back into a high ponytail, gently swaying with the rhythm of his measured gait. He does not look like a regular investigator, but Wangji never listens to stereotypes. He plucks the lensless glasses from his chest pocket, unfolds them, and settles them gently over the bridge of his nose as he sits down directly across from Jin Ling. Only then, does he look up, wearing an unreadable expression. Coldly, he answers:
"If you're going to act like this, then maybe we can make it two nights." Lan Wangji flips the folder open and studies the information he already memorized the first time. This is complicated. Pushing the folder aside, Lan Wangji crosses his arms over his chest and eyes the delinquent in front of him. He knows beyond the mirror on the adjacent wall, that the Chief stuffs an Asiago bagel in his mouth, cackling with his subordinates. Wangji releases a soundless sigh and shakes his head.
"Tell me what happened."
