Paint Me Blue

IX. Mirror

Yin had dressed himself in an all-black suit that Saturday afternoon, his attire and demeanor giving off an air of mystery. As he picked up a bouquet of white flowers from a florist, any passerby might have thought he was heading out for an elegant date or meeting someone important at a luxurious restaurant.

But that wasn't the case. Instead, he drove to a quiet, desolate part of town, parking his car in front of an abandoned building.

He made his way up the dusty, creaking stairs, each step heavy with anticipation. Reaching the fourth floor, Yin paused, letting his gaze wander across the walls, which were alive with an intricately detailed mural—a monochromatic world of fine lines and shadows. This art was one of the most meticulous pieces he'd ever seen, but a bitter taste accompanied his admiration. It was the handiwork of someone he once held close: War, his former lover.

At the far end of the room, Yin stopped before a towering black-and-white portrait of a man in his late forties. It was his old captain, Su Lin. Yin crouched down, setting the flowers carefully at the foot of the mural, his eyes fixed on the painted face. He scoffed softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he brushed dust from the captain's forehead, as if touching a memory.

"Happy birthday, Captain. Can't believe you're this old already." His voice was light, teasing, but as the words hung in the stillness, his expression softened, growing solemn. Yin lowered himself, squatting as he stared up at the face he'd once looked to for guidance.

"He's back, Captain," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Please... tell me what I'm supposed to do." He lingered, his quiet words filling the empty room as if waiting for an answer from the painted figure before him.

A faint clicking echoed up the stairwell, the unmistakable sound of heels tapping against old concrete. Yin turned his head toward the sound, catching sight of a woman stepping onto the fourth floor. She wore a pristine white suit, her demeanor poised and self-assured, likely close to his age. Like him, she held a bouquet of flowers, their delicate petals a striking contrast against the graying surroundings.

Without acknowledging him, she approached the mural, setting her flowers down just below the painting of Captain Su Lin. Her silence intrigued him, and finally, Yin asked, "Did you know him?"

She didn't look at him but replied, "I know the one who drew him." Her voice was soft, almost reverent. "I come here around this time each year," she added, her tone carrying a quiet sincerity.

As she turned to him, a hint of a smirk played on her lips. "Got a lighter?" she asked, breaking the somber atmosphere. Yin shook his head. "Don't smoke."

The woman chuckled, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "You police types really don't smoke these days, huh?"

A flicker of surprise passed over Yin's face. "How'd you know I'm a cop?"

She gave him a knowing smile, her gaze steady. "I know more personal things about you than your job." Her words were pointed, leaving little doubt that she knew of his past with War.

Yin's curiosity deepened as he studied the woman, her confident gaze and the way she seemed at ease in this eerie, abandoned place.

"Who are you?" he asked, keeping his tone steady, though the question carried an unmistakable edge. He felt the weight of her presence, an odd familiarity he couldn't quite place.

The woman met his gaze without flinching, her expression unreadable. "We've met before," she replied cryptically, her eyes revealing nothing more. "It's been a while."

He frowned slightly, trying to dredge up the memory, his mind combing through old cases and faces, but her identity eluded him. Yin took in every detail, from her poised stance to her subtle smirk, hoping something would spark recognition. Yet, she remained a shadow in his memory, a half-formed image just out of reach.