Shadows of Beijing

Beijing's skyline shimmered under the soft glow of dawn, a delicate haze casting a dreamy veil over the high-rises. The city, still half-asleep, stirred to life with quiet anticipation. But inside the penthouse suite of the Lianhua Hotel, chaos reigned. Broken glass sparkled on the marble floor like a fallen constellation. Music thumped from an abandoned speaker, the heavy bass trembling against the silence that had followed the police’s arrival. Detective Chen Yuyan pushed through the door, her sharp eyes scanning the scene. She was dressed in plain clothes—fitted slacks and a crisp blouse, with her long hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her badge glinted at her belt, but it wasn’t the badge that made people listen. It was the authority in her voice, the cold precision in her gaze. “This is your idea of a party?” she muttered, stepping over a spilled bottle of champagne. On the couch, shirt unbuttoned and hair tousled, sat Li Zihan, heir to the Li Corporation, one of China’s most influential conglomerates. He didn’t look like royalty at the moment. In fact, he looked…hungover. “Who the hell called the cops?” Zihan groaned, shielding his eyes from the overhead light. “We weren’t called,” Yuyan replied, unimpressed. “Security alerted us when your friend tried to ride a hotel service cart down the stairs.” Zihan cracked one eye open and snorted. “Liu Haoran’s idea. i***t thinks he’s Jackie Chan.” “And you’re Li Zihan, right?” she asked, crossing her arms. “The one and only.” “That’s unfortunate.” Zihan raised an eyebrow at her tone. “Excuse me?” “I’ve read about you. Headlines, gossip blogs, court reports. Street racing, club fights, ‘accidental’ property damage. You’re a walking PR nightmare.” He smirked. “Nice to meet a fan.” Yuyan stared him down. “I’m not here to be impressed. You’ve been summoned.” Zihan sat up, the humor draining from his face. “Summoned? By who?” “Your father.” Zihan groaned again, this time with real pain. “Of course he sent the cops. He always goes for the dramatics.” “He asked the precinct chief personally,” Yuyan said, her tone clipped. “You’re to report to the Chaoyang District Police Bureau. Today.” “For what? I didn’t even do anything this time.” “That’s debatable,” Yuyan muttered, turning away. “Get dressed. You have ten minutes.” --- The precinct buzzed with the usual morning shuffle—phones ringing, officers barking orders, coffee being brewed by the gallon. Zihan looked entirely out of place in his designer jacket and loafers, his expensive sunglasses still perched on his nose. Detective Chen Yuyan led him through the narrow corridors, ignoring the stares that followed them. “What is this place, a prison? Smells like disappointment and old noodles,” he muttered. Yuyan didn’t respond. She stopped at Captain Wang Lei’s office and knocked once before pushing the door open. Inside, the captain sat behind a desk littered with reports and half-drunk tea. He looked up, face unreadable, as Zihan entered. “Li Zihan,” Wang said. “Have a seat.” “I’d rather stand. And what’s this about? My dad pulling strings again?” Wang’s expression didn’t shift. “Your father wants you to understand the value of responsibility. He’s pulled you out of your trust fund, canceled your allowance, and cut off your credit cards.” Zihan blinked. “Wait. He what?!” “You're broke, Mr. Li,” Wang said. “And from this point on, you're going to work for the police department.” Yuyan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. She couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Zihan’s world collapsing in real time. “You’re joking,” Zihan said. “There’s no way—” “This isn’t a joke,” Wang said. “You’ll shadow one of our detectives, assist with investigations, and earn your keep. If you walk away, your father will see to it that your name is removed from the company.” Zihan laughed, a hollow, disbelieving sound. “That’s blackmail.” “Call it tough love,” Yuyan said. Wang continued. “You’ll be working under Detective Chen Yuyan.” Zihan looked at her, then back at Wang. “Her? She hates me.” “She’s the best we’ve got. And maybe you need someone who doesn’t care about your last name.” Zihan frowned. “This is insane.” “Welcome to reality,” Yuyan said, already walking out. “Orientation starts now.” --- Their first stop was a minor robbery scene in a quiet residential neighborhood. Yuyan worked fast, taking statements, examining footprints, snapping photos. Zihan stood awkwardly beside her, holding a notebook he hadn’t touched. “Are you going to help or just stand there looking pretty?” she asked, not looking up. He blinked. “I thought I was just observing.” “You’re part of the team now. Take notes. Ask questions. Look for inconsistencies.” He sighed and flipped open the notebook. “Fine. What am I even looking for?” She walked him through the basics—what to observe, how to listen, what kind of questions to ask. He tried, but it was clear he’d never worked a real job in his life. Still, there was something about the way he watched her. Not with judgment, but curiosity. “You actually like this job,” he said quietly, later, as they left the scene. “I like getting justice for people,” she replied without hesitation. Zihan nodded slowly. “That’s...surprisingly noble.” Yuyan glanced at him. “And what do you like? Expensive whiskey and attention?” He grinned. “Not gonna lie—those are great. But maybe I’ll add ‘solving crimes’ to the list.” She rolled her eyes. “Just don’t get in the way.” As they reached the car, her phone buzzed. Another case. Another call. She slid into the driver’s seat. “We’ve got a missing person in Sanlitun. Might be connected to a string of disappearances.” Zihan looked over, suddenly serious. “I’m in.” She raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re ready for this?” He smirked. “Let’s find out.”