December 15. Han Zhi sat at his desk.
Outside the window, a bitter wind howled, and fine, swirling snowflakes fell, coating Bianjing City in a thin layer of stark white. Inside the office, however, it was cozy and warm. The charcoal brazier burned brightly, casting its glow over Han Zhi as he bent over his desk.
The mountains of dossiers that once cluttered the table were gone. In their place sat neatly organized and filed volumes, stamped with the red seal of "Case Closed," neatly stacked on the bookshelf, exuding the quiet scent unique to ink and paper.
Chapter 507