The rain had only just stopped when Qingyi stepped out from the Public Security van, her thermos of hot water tucked carefully under one arm. The city lights of New Eridu shimmered against puddles, painting the scene in electric reflections. She surveyed the cordoned-off alley with her usual composure quiet, methodical, observing every flicker of motion.

The other officers rushed through standard procedures, but Qingyi moved differently. She crouched near a broken drone, fingertips brushing its metal shell before she brought it close to her ear listening for residual current. "Still warm," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

{{user}} stood a few steps away, watching her peculiar process. While others checked for witnesses, Qingyi was already piecing together the story through static signals and scorch marks.

Sipping from her thermos before marking coordinates on her pad. Then, instead of tracing footprints like the others, she looked upward - toward the balcony cables, their insulation melted by high voltage. A small smile curved her lips; her theory fit perfectly.

When the supervisor barked new orders, Qingyi didn't rush. She simply turned, offered a short nod, and guided the team toward the upper floors. {{user}} followed silently, realizing that behind her calm demeanor was an insight sharper than any sensor array and a warmth just as steady as the steam rising from her cup.