Divine Oracle [Transmigration] (ORACLE)
"Taking you home."
The words sounded so warm that it wasn't until Song Si, dizzy and lightheaded, got into a car speeding at 120 km/h that he belatedly remembered: "Didn't the doctor say I needed to stay in the hospital for observation for three days?"
Chief Chu clenched a cigarette between his teeth, wearing sunglasses as he passed through the highway exit. He rolled down the window, braked, and manually shifted gears, all while smoothly dropping the speed to 50 km/h—even finding time to light his cigarette mid-drive.
This vintage manual transmission car was driven with the flair of a high-end sports coupe.
Song Si, sitting in the passenger seat, was carsick.
He blurted out, "You have over a dozen sports cars in your garage—can't you replace this piece-of-junk official car from the Third Division?"
"Oh?" Chu Mingyi glanced at him sideways. "Remembering now?"
Song Si froze. Amid the overwhelming nausea, he hazily pondered for a moment, but his memories about this person remained blank.
That earlier remark had seemed to surface from his subconscious.
Was the real Song Si still inside this body? Or had his brain already developed a conditioned reflex to Chu Mingyi?
Seeing the person beside him suddenly wilt and frowning with a serious expression—who knew what he was thinking—Chu Mingyi chuckled and said, "Alright, if you can't remember, then you can't remember. I'm not firing you. Want one?"
Looking down, he saw that this man had just handed a cigarette to his subordinate, who had just finished stomach pumping and a blood transfusion.
Song Si: "..."
After two seconds of internal speechlessness, his body's reflexes were honest. He took the cigarette with his uninjured left hand, borrowed Chu Mingyi's lighter to light it, and took a drag into his lungs.
The smoke rushed straight into his nasal cavity, his entire lungs protesting violently. He choked on the first puff and kept coughing until his face turned red and eyes brimming with tears.
Coincidentally, the light turned red. The cigarette in his hand was taken away as Chu Mingyi freed up a hand to pat his back—not particularly gently—and said, "Take it slow. Who takes such a big drag on their first try?"
Song Si wiped his tears with the back of his hand before uncomfortably rolling down the window, his voice muffled: "Is this my first time smoking?"
Chu Mingyi said, "Never seen you smoke before. I just handed it over casually—didn’t expect you to actually take it."
Song Si thought to himself that the novel really hadn’t mentioned this. But addiction was a mental thing. Even though he’d just suffered from the harsh smoke, the craving stirred again after that one puff. He couldn’t help glancing at the unfinished cigarette in Chu Mingyi’s hand.
Chu Mingyi handed him another one.
As he took it, he inadvertently noticed a ring on his ring finger.
A plain band, snugly fitted—clearly custom-made.
The surface had faint scratches, as if it had been worn for a long time.
He held the cigarette between his teeth before taking a small, careful drags, and letting the nicotine slowly numb his discomfort. Then he leaned back into the seat, removed the ring, and saw the letters engraved inside: "CMX."
He turned to look at the man beside him. Chu Mingyi was focused on the road ahead. The midday sun streamed through the untinted car window, casting a small shadow across his sharp nose and the side of his face.
After a moment, seeing that Song Si showed no intention of looking away, he finally spoke: "What, don’t remember my brother either?"
"Sort of," Song Si said. "Chu Mingxiao?"
The man beside him let out an ambiguous hum through his nose.
The book only briefly mentioned that Song Si had a fiancé, but it was merely an engagement with no mention of marriage.
From what he recalled, the fiancé was over twenty years older than him. During a department gathering, Fu Xi once asked, "Xiao Si, why didn’t you bring your fiancé along?" Song Si had replied at the time, "Chu Mingxiao hasn’t been feeling well these past couple of days."
As for how they met, how they got engaged, why they never registered their marriage, or even details about Chu Mingxiao’s appearance and background—the book never mentioned any of it.
Song Si slid the ring back onto his ring finger, slowly finished his cigarette, rolled up the car window again, and closed his eyes for a short rest.
The car was playing psychedelic rock through its worn-out old speakers, the lead singer’s raspy voice straining to the limit, making it hard not to question the driver’s taste in music. But since he was technically his superior, Song Si endured it for a few minutes—until Chu Mingyi reached over and turned the music off.
As if he knew exactly what he was thinking.
Song Si instinctively glanced at him again, trying to sense what the book described: "Whenever near someone with supernatural abilities, one could feel fluctuations in the surrounding air. If the person harbored strong emotions, it would be even more obvious."
But no matter how intently he focused, as a senior figure in the Special Investigation Department, he couldn’t detect the slightest anomaly from Chu Mingyi.
Either he truly was just an ordinary person, or this body of his had no effect on him.
A long silence settled in the car. After a while, Song Si finally couldn’t hold back and asked a question that had been nagging at him: "You said we accidentally slept together half a month ago. Was that true?"
As he spoke, his gaze lingered on Chu Mingyi’s profile, watching for any reaction.
Chu Mingyi didn’t even lift an eyebrow. "Just teasing you."
Song Si: "???"
Chu Mingyi chuckled but offered no further explanation. He stepped on the gas, driving the car into the courtyard before motioning for him to get out.
Song Si opened the door and stepped onto the gravel path.
Last night, he had been carried out in a daze, and the night too dark to see clearly. Now, in daylight, he could properly take in the two-story house with its modest courtyard.
The plants and flowers sprawled wildly, encroaching on the rockery, gravel path, and even the steps. The small pond was mostly obscured—any unfamiliar guest visiting at night might easily stumble right into it.
The first floor was a clinic, the second his residence. The clinic’s door was firmly shut, with a "Closed Today" sign hanging from the handle. There were no advertisements or signs indicating whether it was a dental, internal medicine, surgical, or psychiatric clinic. From the courtyard to the entrance, the whole place exuded an air of "not open for business."
This was Song Si’s home. Yet Chu Mingyi pulled out a key from his bag, unlocked the door with practiced ease, and gestured for him to come inside.
While the exterior was too understated to resemble a clinic, the interior was as well-equipped as a central hospital. The medicine cabinets were built into the walls, stretching from the ceiling down to unseen underground compartments, connected by pipes to each small compartment. Various medical devices each had their own partitioned spaces, and there were rooms sealed behind iron doors with unknown purposes. Along the walls, stacks of books filled entire shelves.
Song Si gave it a cursory glance before Chu Mingyi grabbed his arm and led him upstairs.
The first floor was clearly a clinic with high-end equipment, suggesting someone influential was behind its operations. As his superior, it made sense that Chu Mingyi had a key.
But the second floor was a private residence. He watched as the man took out another key, unlocked the door with practiced ease, walked straight to the living room, and pulled open the heavy dark curtains that blocked out all light.
The series of actions was so smooth that Song Si stood frozen at the doorway for several seconds.
"The smell of blood is overwhelming," Chu Mingyi frowned. "Come in. This is your own home."
Song Si thought to himself that it looked far more like Chu Mingyi's home. Just moments ago, he'd said "just kidding," but now it seemed less like a one-night stand and more like a long-term friends-with-benefits arrangement.
He changed his shoes and entered. The not-too-large space was crammed with furniture, including seven or eight vases of various sizes. A short osmanthus tree was in bloom, filling the air with its sweet fragrance, which mingled with the heavy metallic scent of blood, making him sneeze the moment he stepped inside.
While Chu Mingyi went to open the windows, Song Si walked into the bathroom and saw the blood-filled bathtub.
After sitting overnight, the blood had separated from the water, and the red sinking to the bottom.
A wave of dizziness hit him. Unable to resist, he pulled out the drain stopper and grabbed the showerhead to rinse the blood clinging to the bathtub walls.
Someone reached over and took the showerhead from his hand. Song Si turned his head, his lips nearly brushing against the other man's chin.
Chu Mingyi was taller than him—something he hadn't noticed in the car. At this proximity, an undeniable sense of pressure enveloped him. Song Si instinctively took half a step back, his heel hitting the bathtub. He wobbled, only to be steadied by a firm grip on his arm.
Chu Mingyi raised an eyebrow, an amused and incredulous look on his face as he studied Song Si's pallid complexion. "Are you nervous?"
Suppressing his dizziness, Song Si said, "Boss, didn't you just say you were kidding? This isn't appropriate, is it?"
Chu Mingyi chuckled before releasing his arm and turning back to rinse the bathtub. "Losing your memory really changed you. You’ve always been so quiet—who knew you were roasting me in your head all this time, huh?"
Song Si replied, "Maybe."
The corner of Chu Mingyi's mouth lifted as he let go. "Go sit down. I'll clean this up."
Banished from his own bathroom, Song Si walked to the desk. He wanted to drink the glass of water sitting there but noticed a piece of paper beside it. The handwriting was messy, the strokes angry, and it bore three words: "Song Si is—"
"Don’t go out these next few days. Stay home and recover your memory," Chu Mingyi said as he stepped out of the bathroom. Song Si quickly crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash.
"The Liu Cenning case isn’t closed yet. He was willing to expose himself just to attack you. Think hard about what you uncovered during the interrogation the other day," Chu Mingyi stopped in front of him. "If there really was a lead, he won’t let it go. He might try again, which is why I brought you back from the hospital."
Song Si nodded vaguely.
Chu Mingyi leaned down, locking eyes with him. "I’ll have people stationed here. No more dates with your messy little flings for a while. Got it?"
Song Si: "?" Little flings? What little flings?
After delivering his warning, Chu Mingyi checked his watch, poured him a glass of hot water, then left the recently rescued—and possibly still targeted—subordinate on the second floor, closing the door behind him.
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