"I see. Good to know there's at least one police officer who actually cares about this case," Zhao Yiming said with a polite smile.
"Since, you know… the lack of evidence and all." He decided to go with the flow.
"My name is Zhao Yiming, Ms. Han," he introduced himself formally.
Han Queying laughed softly. "Oh, no need to be so formal with me, Mr. Zhao. Or can I call you Zhao? Or… Yiming?"
His eyes widened slightly. 'Is this girl making a move on me?!'
His gaze instinctively flicked toward Luo Yanyu—who was staring holes into the side of his head with a glare sharp enough to slice noodles midair.
"Uh… Zhao or Zhao Yiming is fine," he said, clearing his throat and straightening his posture.
"Alright then," Han said, all business again. "Let's focus on the case, shall we?"
She walked over to Wen Qiao, who was wiping the counter, and politely asked for access to the back room. The old woman gave a nod of approval with a gentle wave of her hand.
