The sky gradually turned brighter, a tinge of orange seeping through the clouds. Xiaotao ordered us to go home and rest, which I gladly obeyed. Tiredness had slowly crept up on me and I was ready to pass out. After a direct confrontation with the murderer, we each sustained our own losses, but one thing was certain: he wouldn’t act for the time being.

Just as I was about to leave, I remembered that Lao Yao and Bingxin were still at the station. The two had fallen asleep on the table after collapsing from exhaustion.

When I shook Bingxin’s shoulder, she opened her bleary eyes, voice thick with sleepiness as she asked, "Did we get the murderer?"

"He got away but we managed to save a few of the hostages,” I said. “I'll take you home now."

Dali pointed to Lao Yao and then at himself, his crestfallen eyes seemed to say, If you’re taking Bingxin home, does that mean I have to go with Lao Yao?

Muddled from the sleepiness, Bingxin sleepwalked out of the station, almost leaning her body on me entirely. I quickly hailed a cab and told the driver to make a short detour to her home. On the way, Bingxin muttered, "I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help much. Song Yang-gege, can you persuade Xiaotao-jiejie to allow me to join you guys at night?"

"So what if you were with us? At the time, even the SWAT team might not have done any good," I argued.

"But I just want to be with you!" pouted Bingxin.

I cajoled her by explaining we needed someone in the rear to offer support, much like the strategies we applied in Battle City back when we were still playing with our Nintendos. In a war, protecting our base was of utmost importance. Otherwise, how could us “soldiers” go out to battle at ease?

"Song Yang-gege, don't worry!” Bingxin obediently nodded. “We’ll never lose our base with me around!"

I turned around and found Dali lazily sprawled on the passenger seat, allowing displeasure to do the talking.

In front of Bingxin’s home, she threw a huge fuss, insisting I walk her to the door but I refused. How could I sell Dali out and leave him alone with that sleazebag?

"Exactly!" interjected Dali. “Isn’t there a saying that buddies are just as important as one’s hands and feet?!”

Bingxin snapped her head around and yelled, "Would you like to finish the rest of that sentence? If you dare, I'll kill you!"

"Don't listen to his nonsense!” I urged. “Liu Bei was obviously gay. Why would any straight man take that to be true?"

"Pay attention to what you say in the future!" Bingxin snorted, casting a dissatisfied look towards Dali.

Dali wiped the cold sweat off his forehead, flustered as he coaxed, "Bingxin-meimei, I like how sassy you are!"

After she left, Lao Yao’s previously closed eyes snapped wide open and an accusatory glare shot in my direction. "Xiao Song-song, you seem to be prejudiced against gay men. Come over here so we can have a good talk!"

On the way back to the university, I was tempted to jump out of the car several times.

Upon returning to my dormitory, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow but it was restless sleep that awaited me; I slept for five hours and had a terrible nightmare. I dreamt Storm Punisher trapped me in a contraption, and darkness engulfed my surroundings. "Song Yang, I want to play a game with you!" his cold-blooded voice filled my ears.

When I awoke from my dream, my body was damp and sticky with sweat. A quick glance at my phone told me it was already two in the afternoon.

There was a notification on my phone alerting me of the discussion group Xiaotao had set up for our task force, so anyone who discovered clues could inform the others.

There were a few new notifications in the group. Officers who investigated the components of the contraption traced their purchase to an online transaction. Because we already knew Storm Punisher’s real identity, following this lead hardly posed a predicament.

The technical team found evidence from the murderer's home that could be used in court but was of little help to our current situation.

Xiaotao sent a team of officers to conduct a blanket search within ten kilometers of the murderers’ former place of residence but there was still no clue about their whereabouts. The escape planned by Storm Punisher last night suggested that he had a powerful backer assisting him, most likely the people behind the website.

Finally, there was another small matter that had nothing to do with the case, that is, the victim we rescued last night managed to make it through the night. From the moment he regained consciousness, he threw a conniption fit, unable to accept the cruel fact that ninety percent of his body was covered in severe burns.

I phoned Xiaotao and asked, "Do you need any help? I can go over now!"

"You’re up early! Did you see the messages in the group?” asked Xiaotao. “The case has now entered a stalemate. If it’s not handled properly, this will become an unsolved case."

"Not necessarily,” I remarked. “These two murderers are self-absorbed people and love showing off. I can guarantee they will make another move."

Xiaotao sighed, "Did I make the wrong decision last night?"

"You were decisive and did the best you could,” I comforted. “Under the circumstances, there was no better solution."

"Talking to you always puts me in a better mood,” chuckled Xiaotao. “Why don't you switch professions and be a psychologist instead... By the way, speaking of doctors, I suddenly thought of something. Last night, the victim insisted on speaking to you. He said that if you don't go, he won't receive treatment. Please take some time to visit the No. 3 Hospital!"

I knew it wouldn’t be anything good, but I agreed anyway.

I checked on Dali who was still sleeping soundly, turning sideways to hug his pillow, his lips murmuring, "Bingxin-meimei!"

I shook Dali up and he opened his eyes in a daze. After repeating thrice for him to drop by the station after he woke up, Dali muttered a vague word of affirmation and dozed off again.

I took a cab to the No. 3 Hospital where an officer stood on guard, waiting to escort me to the victim. Outside the ward, I heard a crash from within. "Get the hell out of here!" a loud voice bellowed.

Expelled from the room, the doctor shot me a wary look and shook his head. "Be careful when you go in. That man needs to see a psychologist."

I couldn’t fight the uneasiness in my heart as I pushed the door open and walked into the ward. Wrapped in bandages, the patient lay in bed like a mummy. "It's you! I remember you were the one who saved me last night!" he cried.

I didn't know what else to say except, "Are you feeling better?"

A cup of water abruptly flew towards my head and I quickly dodged, thankful for my quick reflexes. "I remember one of the officers was about to shoot me last night!” shouted the boy. “Why did you stop her? Why didn't you let me die? I’m a fucking basket case now. What's the point of living!"

While he hollered abuse at me, his hands continuously grabbed the items around him, aiming squarely at me.

"Don't be impulsive!" I patiently advised, arms trying to block those objects from hitting me. “Once you’ve recovered, you can receive a full-body skin graft. If you think it’s my fault you look like this, I’m willing to pay part of your medical expenses!"

But my words seemed to further stimulate him, his eyes glowing with red-hot anger and before I could react, he jumped down from his bed and rammed his head against the window grille. "I don't want your pity! Let me die, just let me die! I don't want to live!"

He rattled the metal grille in a frenzy, his manic behavior convincing me that he might actually jump off the building. Hastening towards him, I attempted to placate and discourage him from any foolish actions. Out of the blue, he swung around and clasped his fingers around my neck, squeezing hard and successfully pinned me to the bed.

Although this boy was on the skinny side, a crazy person’s strength was not to be underestimated. As I felt the air being forced out my throat, a bunch of men in white coats dashed into the room, forcibly held him down and injected a sedative.

The boy’s heavy lids slowly shut, body slumped over in sleep. My fingers traced the red handprints that had surfaced on my neck and I thought to myself, What a close call!

"Officer, are you hurt?” asked the doctor. “The patient has been difficult to control since last night. I think we should transfer him to a mental hospital."

"Thanks for the hard work,” I said. “I'm afraid he’ll only get worse if he is sent to a mental hospital. After all, such an experience isn’t something anyone can just get over. I’ll get the officers to find a psychologist to soothe the patient."

While this was what I said, I couldn’t help but curse at what a lunatic he was as I walked out of the door.