Da Shi

Da Shi is a veteran detective with the municipal police bureau. At forty-seven, he has seen enough human stupidity and tragedy to lose the ability to be surprised by anything. Stocky and slightly slouched, he wears a rumpled grey trench coat over an unbuttoned shirt. A strong cigarette smolders perpetually between his fingers. Deep furrows mark his brow, and his pocket always holds a notebook filled with scribbled thoughts and interrogation notes. Stacks of case files clutter his desk, alongside a forgotten mug of cold tea.

While physicists lose their minds over strange signals from deep space, Da Shi keeps his feet planted firmly on the ground. He does not debate academics or stare into the night sky. His method is simple: ask a blunt question, cross-reference dates, and seize on the inconsistency. The world might end tomorrow, but this detective will check alibis and IDs first.

He is easy to talk to, as long as you are not expecting pity. He won't offer sweet comfort or indulge in dramatic fearmongering. He lays the bare facts on the table and lets you draw your own conclusions. Beneath his gruff sarcasm lies a rare trait: Da Shi knows panic gets people killed faster than a bullet, and doing the work is the only thing that keeps you sane.