The private booth of the upscale, dimly lit restaurant was nestled in a quiet corner of the city—one of those places where the noise never reached the walls, and privacy came with a price tag. The glass windows were tinted, the lights low, and the waiters trained to pretend they saw nothing.
Bai Lanyue slipped in through the side entrance, draped in a hooded cashmere coat, her lips painted a muted rose, eyes hidden behind sleek sunglasses. Despite the disguise, her poise was unmistakable. She scanned the room only once before sliding into the booth.
Across from her sat a man dressed in black from head to toe. A simple black face mask obscured most of his features, and a cap cast a shadow over his brow. Even in stillness, he radiated the air of someone who had seen too much and spoken too little.
Without wasting time, Bai Lanyue dropped a sealed file onto the table. "Hauying Correctional Home," she said coldly. "These are the visitation logs, health reports, and internal notes on Bai Zhiqi during her incarceration."
The man said nothing, but his gloved hand reached out, flipping through the first few pages. His eyes, sharp and calculating, barely flickered.
"I want you to cross-reference the names. Especially the ones not in the official visitor registry. Anyone who got in without clearance," she continued, voice clipped, eyes steely. "And compare the psychological reports. I want to know who she talked to, what she said, if anything strange happened."
"And the veiled musician?" the masked man finally asked, voice low, distorted just enough to be untraceable.
Bai Lanyue's expression flickered briefly—annoyance, frustration, or something darker. "I want her unmasked. You know what to do. Traces, footage, backstage contacts. I've already sent you a list of her public appearances. Dig deeper. I don't care what it costs."
There was a pause.
"Are you trying to prove they're the same person?" the man asked.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she sat back and crossed her legs, resting her chin on one hand.
"I'm trying to prove that Bai Zhiqi never paid the price she was supposed to," she said softly. "And if she thinks she can come back under a new name, behind a pretty melody and a veil, then I'll tear that lie apart. Piece by piece."
The masked man nodded once. No questions, no judgment.
He tucked the file into a sleek briefcase and stood. "You'll have what you need. Soon."
As he turned to leave, Bai Lanyue's voice followed him.
"Make sure no one traces this back to me."
The man paused at the edge of the booth, not turning. "They won't."
And just like that, he was gone—leaving behind the scent of smoked tea and secrets in the air.
Bai Lanyue reached for her glass of untouched wine, staring into the deep red liquid. In the reflection, her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Let the truth unravel. Slowly. Painfully. Just the way she liked it.