CYCGS 06

Chapter – 06 

The Municipal Bureau

“Fly onto the desk.”

This time, White Yiyi pretended not to understand and stayed quietly crouched in his palm.

He didn’t plan to expose himself completely. Thinking about what level his feeder could accept, he decided to present himself as having the intelligence of a 2- or 3-year-old—simple commands were fine, but complicated ones depended on his mood.

Yan Tuo wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. He didn’t press the little creature further. Setting him down on the coffee table, he started opening the packages beside him.

It was the cuttlebone wind chime and bird food he’d ordered a couple days earlier. As soon as the box was opened, Tangyuan fluttered over to perch on top of the cardboard box, peering around curiously.

Yan Tuo took everything out, sorted it, walked over to the birdcage, and found an empty spot next to the swing on top of the cage, hanging the wind chime securely in place.

The bird food came in a big bag, colorful and flashy—he couldn’t tell any real difference from the previous stuff. He set it aside for now. The fresh mealworms, however, turned out to be harder to stomach than he’d expected.

According to the bird-keeping tips, most birds loved these nutritious artificially raised worms. They looked like newly hatched silkworms but were much thicker—sections of yellowish-brown wriggling bodies, densely packed throughout the entire plastic box. Watching Tangyuan suddenly retreat to the corner of the sofa, and recalling the outcome of the earthworm feast last time, Yan Tuo suddenly realized he might have done something stupid.

But since he’d bought them, he figured he should at least try. He didn’t dare take out too many at once—just picked two small ones, hooked them on his fingertip, and slowly brought them toward the white ball.

“Chirp chirp!”—two urgent cries.

The little guy flew straight up to the ceiling lamp and hung there, looking clearly terrified.

Yan Tuo understood. He crossed all insects off Tangyuan’s menu, turned around, and tossed the whole box of mealworms into the trash can.

After a moment’s thought, he fished it out again, took it downstairs, and threw it away properly, before teasing his pet, “At first I thought you just didn’t like earthworms, but turns out you don’t like any bugs. You really are unconventional.”

White Yiyi had nearly fainted just from seeing that box of mealworms. He wasn’t a real bird—how could he stomach such a brutal bug feast? Just seeing them triggered his trypophobia, let alone eating them! That had scared the hell out of him.

Luckily, his feeder was sensible enough to figure it out after a couple dodges and disposed of them quickly. Otherwise, if they’d ended up in the food tray again like last time, he’d probably have been scared into another negative-score spiral.

As usual, Yan Tuo sat down at the desk and opened his laptop. White Yiyi descended onto his shoulder, ready to mooch some internet access.

The moment his eyes landed on the screen, he couldn’t help but let out a “Chirp chirp!”—What the hell.

It was way too intense.

His feeder wasn’t browsing the web—he was looking at several side-by-side crime scene comparison photos.

To be fair, White Yiyi had been through plenty of bloody manga and anime, so even though the brutal real-life images shocked him at first glance, he still managed to stay steady on his male god’s shoulder without going weak in the legs.

Yan Tuo turned his head at the chirp, but no matter how smart a bird was, it was still just a bird—nothing to worry about. He ignored it and stared fixedly at the images, lost in thought.

The four photos were arranged in a grid, showing four different victims, but even a layman like White Yiyi could see the similarities in the “modus operandi”.

All appeared to be relatively slender males, with their hands bound behind their backs using zip ties. Plastic bags covered their faces, and their bodies were covered in haphazard wounds. The clothing casually draped over their exposed lower halves clearly indicated what else the victims had endured before death.

Was this a serial murder case involving sexual assault? And all the victims were male?

Even guys weren’t safe when out and about these days, huh.

If White Yiyi had been in human form right now, his face would surely have looked as grim as a corpse’s.

Real photos were different from artistically stylized comics—they didn’t chase any “violent aesthetic” visual effects. They were brutally raw and cold, and behind each photo was a life snuffed out. The impact of that reality could make any normal person’s hair stand on end.

But more critically, the images inevitably reminded him of that大叔 next door from his childhood—the one with the fake smile, who, seeing how pretty he was and taking advantage of his youth and naivety, would constantly hug and hold him. Later, in the small park, he’d pinned him down and forced a kiss. If a patrolling officer hadn’t happened to pass by, who knows—he might have become one of those photos himself?

That incident had cast a huge shadow over his childhood. Over time, he’d grown increasingly afraid of social interaction—including his uniform fetish, which was probably an indirect result of that trauma.

Forcing himself to endure the discomfort, White Yiyi stared at the photos alongside Yan Tuo, trying to pick out details.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Yan Tuo answered quickly: “What is it?”

In the quiet room, White Yiyi could faintly hear fragmented words from the other end: “…16 hours… little star… leak…”

“Got it. Notify Team One and the forensics unit to head to the scene. Have Intelligence handle public opinion intervention. I’m heading out now.”

After a few brief, clipped sentences, Yan Tuo shot to his feet. White Yiyi swayed and nearly fell, digging his claws into the shoulder epaulet and flapping his wings a couple of times to steady himself.

Yan Tuo quickly packed up his laptop, then carried his pet back to the cage while instructing, “Tangyuan, you be good at home.”

Without another word, his long legs took him to the door in two strides, and he was gone.

It looked like some urgent case had come up. White Yiyi wondered to himself, feeling a twinge of sympathy.

This guy—he’d worked so late, only been home for about ten minutes, hadn’t even changed clothes, and who knew if he’d eaten—and one phone call sent him rushing back to the scene. As expected, ordinary folks like him could live comfortably because there were always people carrying the weight for them.

Yan Tuo’s absence lasted a full day and night. He didn’t return until 11 PM the next evening.

This time, it wasn’t just a chirpy welcome. As soon as the door closed, a little white ball shot toward him like a swallow returning to its nest, landing steadily on his shoulder and deliberately nuzzling his fluffy head-feathers against his neck.

Such an endearing display of “I haven’t seen you in so long, I missed you so much.”

After two days out in the scorching sun, Yan Tuo felt like he reeked of sweat and sourness. To his surprise, his little pet didn’t mind at all—in fact, he was even clingier than usual. His weary spirits lifted slightly, and he rubbed the little guy’s belly in return.

After a five-minute combat shower, Yan Tuo started packing his things.

This case had too big an impact, too damaging. The higher-ups had given them an impossibly tight deadline. His team had been chasing leads day and night—he’d be better off stationed at the office like before, handling information and issuing orders quickly and efficiently. Besides, he was a bachelor—one person fed, the whole family fed…

At that thought, Yan Tuo suddenly realized something. He turned to look at his little pet, who was perched on the nightstand watching him pack. What about Tangyuan?

He thought it over. The end time was too unpredictable—better to have Hongqing take care of him for a few days.

He dialed. It rang several times before someone answered, and the voice that came through was breathy, clearly annoyed: “…Yan Tuo, please be a human being—it’s the middle of the night…”

“…Can you talk?”

“Fuck, I’m in the middle of life-or-death—what do you think? What is it?”

Seems he’d interrupted someone’s nocturnal activities. That his friend still answered the phone at such a critical moment probably meant he was worried it might be something urgent.

A bit embarrassed, Yan Tuo cut to the chase: “Nothing major. I’ve got urgent work and wanted to leave Tangyuan at your—”

Before he could finish, there were a few urgent, breathy sounds on the line, followed by his friend’s rapid-fire reply: “Fuck, half—no, an hour—I’ll call you back. Hang up first…”

That animal. Clearly not dependable.

Putting down the phone, Yan Tuo turned to look at the white ball, who had flown back onto his shoulder and was clinging to him, refusing to let go. He sighed helplessly. “How about you come with me, then?… You have to behave, okay?”

“Chirp—”

Twenty minutes later, Yan Tuo, carrying a messenger bag and the birdcage, arrived at the Municipal Bureau. In one corner of the team’s office hall, five or six colleagues were gathered around instructor Zhao Ge and Cao Yiman, captain of the First Investigation Unit. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air as they debated the case.

Yan Tuo casually reminded them, “We’re in an air-conditioned room, you know—watch yourselves. And there are female colleagues present.”

Sun Lei, the team’s token flower, who was brewing coffee for everyone, flashed two sweet dimples at his words: “Captain Yan, you’re back so soon? Want a cup of coffee?”

“Yeah, put it on my desk. Thanks.”

Yan Tuo nodded, then tilted his chin toward the slightly plump instructor: “Zhao Ge, why aren’t you home yet? You’re in administration—what are you doing staying up with the front line? Don’t make Sister-in-law so mad she comes down to the bureau to block my door again.”

The circle of men shared a knowing laugh. Zhao Ge shot back, “What’s wrong with admin? Can’t solve cases? Revolutionary work knows no class distinctions, you know. Don’t forget—we were in the same batch, same class. Your very first crime scene visit—I was the one who took you there.”

Yan Tuo calmly admitted, “Mm, but didn’t I have to have you drive me? I hadn’t gotten my driver’s license yet back then, and you were the only driver left in the whole team.”

Zhao Ge was furious, his cigarette-holding hand pointing and tapping incessantly: “…You little bastard, still talking tough, are you? If you’ve got the guts, don’t ever come to my house again, and don’t let your sister-in-law make you sour fish stew!”

The laughter grew louder. The instructor and Deputy Captain Yan’s bickering routine, a perennial favorite that had run for years, was the after-dinner entertainment beloved by the masses in the Municipal Bureau’s criminal investigation division.

The two had gone from being classmates at the police academy to colleagues, walking side by side for over a decade—a profound brotherhood where they could curse each other to their faces but would take a bullet for each other behind their backs.

Yan Tuo chuckled and stopped bickering with him. Carrying the birdcage, he returned to his own office, found a spot by the window that was airy and shaded, set it down, and removed the cage cover so Tangyuan could get some air.

Sun Lei, walking in with a cup of coffee, spotted the little white ball in the cage at first glance. “Oh my,” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she leaned in.

“Captain Yan, this… this bird is way too cute! And you even gave it a bowl-cut hairstyle?”

Sun Lei asked curiously. She never would have imagined that the always tough-guy Deputy Captain Yan would bring a cute pet to work—a 1.9-meter tall guy with this little white ball less than 10 centimeters, the contrast between owner and pet was just explosively adorable.

Hearing his beloved pet praised, Yan Tuo felt a bit pleased and explained, “This is a crested canary. It’s naturally born looking like that.”

“Ahh, so cute! That fluffy little white ball—I just want to poke it.”

Yan Tuo shot a glance at the dazed Sun Lei, not understanding why this usually capable policewoman, upon seeing a pet bird, was acting like a fangirl spotting her idol, squealing nonstop.

The white bird, Bai Yiyi, thought the same.

The girl’s overly enthusiastic staring was a bit too much for him to handle. He thought about hiding in his nest, and once he was out of sight, she’d leave.

But he severely underestimated the gossip value of Yan Tuo bringing a bird to work. In just a moment, the Municipal Bureau at 1 a.m. actually saw a wave of office-visiting frenzy, with people coming and going just to see him, the bird in question.

Even the tech team, still working overtime, was stirred up. Intern officer Xiao Liu, a bespectacled plain-faced girl, stood at the door of the Deputy Captain’s office and somewhat shyly requested, “Captain Yan, I… I want to see your bird!”

Zhao Ge, leaning by the cage, couldn’t hold it in and let out a weird “heh heh” laugh.

Both the owner and the pet frowned.

The words weren’t wrong, strictly speaking.

But why did they sound so strange?