Secret Incident (BL) - Chapter 4

The moment Liam Jun stepped into his hotel room, his two assistants bombarded him with relentless phone calls.

As soon as he answered the video call, the two of them wasted no time complaining about the hotel’s conditions.

“No way, no way. Those pictures online were a scam!” Jiang Lai groaned dramatically. “I argued with the hotel owner over a dump like this? I’m not staying here!”

Qiu Wei, pushing up his square-framed glasses, added, “There might be a serial killer nearby. I value my life. I’m not staying here either.”

“I don’t care. I’m not going. There’s not even a nail salon in this godforsaken place!” Jiang Lai whined.

“Unless we get a raise,” Qiu Wei added.

Liam ignored them. He tossed his phone onto the bed, letting the call continue in the background while he started unpacking his suitcase.

Liam Jun ran a detective agency, though the name was more impressive than the actual work. Investigations? Not exactly. Most of their business involved catching cheating spouses—easy, quick money.

The agency consisted of three people, including Liam himself.

Jiang Lai was a petite woman obsessed with beauty and fashion. She had been training in close-combat martial arts since childhood—unassuming in appearance but capable of knocking someone out with a single strike.

Qiu Wei was a tech geek. His past enthusiasm for hacking and experimenting with gadgets had resulted in multiple blown-up buildings and vehicles. He had been a frequent visitor to juvenile detention centers. After failing his college entrance exams, his family, at their wits’ end, sent him to work for his distant cousin—Liam Jun.

Liam himself had been a forensic pathologist, a rising star in the city’s criminal investigation team. However, at thirty, just as he was about to be promoted, an accident forced him to leave the force. He later started this agency, which had now been running for five years—somewhat by accident.

For instance, they once took on a case from a high schooler looking for their missing crush, only to uncover a human trafficking and drug-smuggling ring.

Another time, they took a case about a cheating spouse, which led them to an offshore money laundering operation.

Word got around, and soon their cases became increasingly out of the ordinary.

Like now—this was a favor from a former colleague at the police department. Liam was tailing a suspect.

There was no hard evidence—only a detective’s gut feeling.

Without evidence, the police couldn’t open an official investigation. Liam’s agency, however, was unrestricted by red tape and bold enough to take risks, making them the perfect candidates.

Or, as Qiu Wei put it: “We’re unpaid informants.”

“Free labor is one thing, but do you know how much a whitening injection costs? And you’re sending me to a place that’s over 40°C every day!” Jiang Lai continued to grumble.

Liam finished unpacking his clothes and toiletries, replacing the hotel’s bathroom supplies with his own. By the time he was ready to shower, the video call was still ongoing.

Jiang Lai was now listing all the money she spent on beauty treatments in a month.

Liam sat on the bed, picked up his phone, and waited for a pause in the conversation before finally cutting in. “How far have you tracked Cheng Guosheng?”

“He’s a long-haul truck driver. Tracking his movements isn’t exactly easy,” Jiang Lai huffed. “I spoke to a few people who’ve interacted with him, but no one remembers much. They all said he’s quiet, reserved, and honest.”

“Eight out of ten serial killers are described as quiet, reserved, and honest,” Qiu Wei muttered, clearly reluctant. Then he emphasized, “This job is too dangerous. We need a raise.”

Liam ignored the comment and turned to Qiu Wei. “What did you find?”

Despite their endless complaints, both of them were professionals who never actually delayed their work.

On the screen, Qiu Wei was typing on his keyboard while speaking. “I categorized missing persons cases from the national police database—my eyes are practically bleeding from staring at the screen. Based on Cheng Guosheng’s routes in the past three years, there are twenty-four recorded disappearances. I’ve sent you the report. But even if some of these people had contact with him, it doesn’t prove anything.”

Liam bent down, pulled his laptop from the suitcase, and opened the document Qiu Wei had sent. He tossed his phone aside; his video feed had been off the entire time anyway.

Meanwhile, Jiang Lai had clearly set her video to full screen—still fixing her hair and makeup. Qiu Wei, distracted, kept turning to her, throwing out remarks like, “You’ve gained weight,” and “Glasses don’t suit you.”

Liam skimmed through the report and ordered, “Qiu, meet up with Jiang and visit the locations in this missing persons list.”

“Still using the documentary filming cover?” Jiang asked.

“Forge an ID for Qiu,” Liam replied. “Make it a police ID.”

Qiu Wei immediately responded, “That requires a salary bump!”

But even when the call ended, he never got a definitive answer about his pay raise.

When they first took on this case, the team had split up.

Liam had followed the suspect, Cheng Guosheng, from a neighboring city to Pening Harbor.

Jiang Lai had been visiting factories Cheng frequently delivered to, using “documentary filming” as her cover.

Qiu Wei had been digging through police databases, connecting missing persons cases.

The case had started with a strange accident.

Six months ago, after a prolonged period of heavy rain, the city’s drainage system became overloaded. When maintenance workers lifted a manhole cover to check for blockages, they found a body.

The death was ruled accidental—the victim had supposedly slipped and fallen into the uncovered drain.

There were no known disputes or enemies in the victim’s life. The injuries suggested a fall, and scrape marks inside the pipe indicated they had struggled.

A clear accident.

But Liam’s detective friend couldn’t shake certain details.

Why had the street’s surveillance cameras conveniently malfunctioned during the time of death?

Who had put the manhole cover back after the fall?

And why didn’t anyone notice there was a body underneath before replacing it?

At first, it was just a nagging suspicion. Over drinks, Liam and his friend tossed around wild theories. But the next morning, sober, the questions still gnawed at them.

Digging deeper, they found over ten similar cases in different cities over the past five years.

The pattern was eerily consistent:

Storms. Flooded streets. Accidental falls into drainage systems.

The victims were unconnected—scattered across different regions. Their deaths were nothing but unfortunate accidents.

But one common denominator stood out:

Half of the deceased had crossed paths with Cheng Guosheng, a long-haul truck driver.

Gas station attendants, hitchhiking backpackers, dock workers, passenger bus drivers, highway toll collectors…

Casual encounters—nothing more.

Yet after meeting Cheng Guosheng, these people would disappear.

And later, they would be found at the bottom of a drain.

With no evidence and no motive, the police had no grounds to reopen the cases.

So they handed it to Liam.

Liam had been tailing Cheng Guosheng for a while now. The reason he had booked this hotel in advance?

Because Cheng’s current residence was right across the street.

Jiang Lai and Qiu Wei had countless complaints about coming to Pening Harbor.

But truthfully, Liam was the least willing to take this case.

Too much trouble. No money.

No solid leads.

And in the end, all this effort might only prove that the detective’s hunch was wrong.

Liam wasn’t a cop anymore. He wasn’t a forensic pathologist either.

He didn’t have to care.

The only reason he kept going—

Was simple curiosity.

Once the truth starts to fall apart, someone will inevitably step forward to find out the final answer—simply out of curiosity.

But Liam Jun truly couldn’t get used to living in Pening Harbor.

His sleep had never been great to begin with. Add to that his tendency to be picky about beds and the damp, musty hotel room, and it was guaranteed that he wouldn’t get any rest.

He spent the entire night reviewing the missing persons cases. By the time dawn broke, he finally went downstairs, bringing his own tea leaves with him. Borrowing the hotel’s tea set, he brewed a pot and had a few sips, feeling somewhat refreshed.

To Liam, Pening Harbor wasn’t a place he could live in comfortably.

But that didn’t mean he could pass judgment on the pace of life here as an outsider.

Zhao-jie’s voice carried through the entire street as she yelled for her husband, son, and the big yellow dog at the door to come eat.

Breakfast stalls filled the streets, offering soy milk, fried dough sticks, steamed buns, and rice noodles. The air was thick with the mingling aromas of street food—lively and full of energy.

Liam sat in the hotel lobby with A-Jian, chatting.

First, they talked about tea. Then, when he noticed members of the film crew trickling out of the hotel one after another, the topic shifted to movies.

He said, “I looked it up last night and found out this film’s production team is quite prestigious. They’ve won several awards. The lead actor is well-known too—I just never paid much attention before.”

From outside, Zhao-jie called out, “Fine, don’t know the movie, but you don’t even know Ethan Fane? What, have you been living under a rock?”

“Guess I’ve been out of touch,” Liam replied with a mild smile, playing along.

A-Jian added, “Stick around for a few more days, and you’ll get some exposure. Making a movie isn’t just about pointing a camera at an actor’s face and pressing record. You see all these people coming and going all morning? They’re just handling pre-production—setting up scenes, shooting background footage, scouting locations. Some of them have been here for months, and they haven’t even started filming yet. I’ve watched these fresh-faced young guys slowly turn into haggard old men.”

“So filming hasn’t officially started yet,” Liam noted. “That explains why it’s been so quiet upstairs. The guest rooms aren’t even full, are they?”

“A lot of people haven’t arrived yet,” A-Jian confirmed. “Only Ethan Fane came early. He’s rare, that one. You’d think he’s just another pretty boy coasting on his looks, but he’s serious about his craft. No unnecessary demands, no attitude. He’s often out front, chatting with the locals, saying it’s to get a better feel for the role. Acting isn’t just about pulling faces in front of a camera, you know.”

A-Jian spoke with authority, sipping his tea with the air of someone who had seen the world and was eager to share his insights.

Liam nodded in agreement.

At this point, bringing up a room change would seem too abrupt, but in truth, he had no strong opinions on Ethan Fane as an actor.

Still, based on their brief encounters, Ethan Fane had left a particularly… memorable impression.

Liam thought back to the image of him curled up under the rain, then to the subtle shifts in his expressions afterward.

With a meaningful tone, he remarked, “That young actor… not simple.”

“He’s got a bright future,” A-Jian replied.

Zhao-jie chimed in from outside, “No sh1t! My son’s gonna be an award-winning actor!”

Her ten-year-old son, who had been tying his shoes, paused for a second. Then he huffed angrily and stomped out the door.

“I should find time to watch some of his work,” Liam said as he got up. “I’m heading out for a walk.”

As he passed the front desk, he paused. “I’ll take a map.”

“Go ahead, help yourself,” Zhao-jie said, still busy chatting with a breakfast vendor outside.

Liam reached over the counter for a map—casually pulling out the USB drive he had discreetly plugged into the hotel’s computer earlier.

He had done it under the pretense of asking for a business card when he first came downstairs. Just in case.

Not that he really needed to be cautious—this family-operated hotel was so relaxed that no one seemed remotely concerned about security.

The moment he stepped outside, Qiu Wei’s voice came through his Bluetooth earpiece.

“Boss, I get that this is unpaid work, but do you really need to go this hard? You even stuck around for tea and small talk. If I had been any slower copying files, were you planning to start discussing film theory too?”

Qiu’s phone was on speaker, so Jiang Lai chimed in from the background. “That ‘Ji’-something guy seems pretty famous.”

On the other end, in a quiet room, Qiu Wei was already typing away, pulling up information on the film crew.

As he read out, “Ethan Fane,” Liam, now walking through the noisy street, also murmured the name under his breath:

“Ethan Fane.”

“Not important,” Jiang Lai said. “I didn’t bother asking for actor names. But if Cheng Guosheng really is a serial killer, and we can’t pinpoint his victim type or motive, how do we stop him? A film crew means a constantly shifting crowd. And he lives nearby. Could there be a security risk?”

Liam stopped in front of a noodle stall—the cleanest one he had seen after walking half the street.

He ordered a bowl of noodles and two tea eggs. While waiting for his order to be packed, he walked a bit further, surveying the other breakfast stalls.

He didn’t answer Jiang Lai’s question.

She didn’t press. They all knew the answer: finish this as quickly as possible.

From his earpiece, the sound of a drama soundtrack started playing.

As the video played, both Qiu Wei and Jiang Lai suddenly went “Ohhh!” in realization. “So it’s that Ethan Fane! We grew up watching his dramas.”

Back at the hotel, Liam didn’t return to his floor. Instead, he went up—to the fifth floor.

“Hallway’s clear. Room 507 is unoccupied,” Qiu Wei reported through the call.

His laptop wasn’t just showing the hotel’s guest registry—he had also hacked into the security cameras. That was how Liam could confidently use the universal keycard Qiu Wei had set up for him earlier.

The entire building was owned by Zhao-jie and A-Jian.

The ground floor had storefronts rented out, while the second through fifth floors were all guest rooms.

The hotel had been running for over a decade. Though the decor and furniture were outdated—floral tile floors, green checkered windows, vintage dressing tables—it was well-maintained. Not rundown, just old.

And most importantly—better air circulation.

Sunlight poured into the room. It was nothing like the damp, musty air downstairs.

Liam walked to the window, cracked it open slightly, and zoomed in with his phone’s camera, aiming at Cheng Guosheng’s building across the street.

The hotel sat at the border between the new and old districts.

From the other side of the building, he could have gotten a clear view of the maze-like alleys of the old town.

From this room, though, he was looking toward the new district.

A few kilometers away stood two migrant worker dorms—mostly occupied by construction workers, but also rented out as cheap housing.

“Can you see clearly? Want me to bring a telescope?” Jiang Lai asked.

“If Cheng Guosheng isn’t the killer, we’ve technically already broken multiple laws.” Qiu Wei pointed out.

Liam didn’t look away from his camera as he replied, “If he is, there could be bodies under any manhole in this city right now.”

He took a few photos, put his phone away, and headed for the door.

Just as he was about to leave, he heard his earpiece:

“Just say you got the wrong floor.”

But instead, Liam removed his earpiece, turned around, and said—

“Good morning.”

Then, as if he had come up here with a purpose, he added,

“Breakfast. Want some?”