Feng City.

In summer, the sky brightens early. Old Shen, who ran a small food business at the hospital entrance, was up at four in the morning. He prepared the dough for breakfast, instructed his apprentice to start the congee, and rode his tricycle to a wholesale market two bus stops away to pick up the meat and vegetables needed for the day.

Before six o’clock, the first wave of customers had arrived.

The Third Hospital was one of the best in Feng City, where appointments were hard to come by, especially for the inpatient department, which was almost entirely filled with people suffering from life-threatening illnesses. Selling food outside such a hospital meant never having to worry about customer flow. No matter how bad the food tasted, there would always be people with worried brows coming to hastily grab a meal.

Old Shen’s eatery had been open for nearly eight years. It started as a mobile stall with a couple of liquefied gas tanks and a large wok, the aroma of its fried rice wafting across the street. A plate of fried rice ranged from ten to sixteen yuan, each portion stir-fried individually—a business built purely on hard work.

Later, Old Shen saved some money, rented this storefront, hired an apprentice, and worked from dawn till dusk.

The shop itself was small, but the city management, sympathetic to the vendors and patients’ families, allowed small tables to be set up outside during meal times, as long as the public area was kept clean. By just after six, seven or eight tables were already set up outside Old Shen’s shop.

People ate their buns with congee or soy milk in silent haste. Many had just spent the night watching over patients in the wards, their faces drawn and tired. After eating, they would pack one or two more portions and rush back to the hospital. Some were so lost in thought they would bump into tables and chairs or be short a few yuan on payment. After years of doing business here, Old Shen had seen his share of life’s hardships and never haggled with these families.

“Old Shen, a steamer of fresh meat buns, a bowl of sweet potato congee, and two fried eggs!” a raspy voice boomed through the crowd. Some of the customers eating at the entrance looked towards the source of the sound.

The tone clearly didn’t belong to a patient’s family member; they mostly lacked such vitality. Old Shen had just returned from buying supplies and was washing his face and wiping away sweat in the back. Hearing the voice, he came out. “Old Mou, please have a seat.”

“Hey, you haven’t had breakfast yet, have you? Why don’t we eat together? My treat!” Old Mou unceremoniously helped himself to two steamers of buns. “What congee are you having?”

Old Shen didn’t refuse. “Vegetable congee.”

To maximize seating, Old Shen’s tables were quite large, capable of squeezing in eight people. Old Mou was currently taking up space for two, so Old Shen ate standing up, giving the spot to a customer.

Old Mou teased, “Shen-tou, afraid of missing out on a single sale, are you?”

Old Shen smiled. “Everyone’s in a hurry to eat breakfast.”

“Tsk, you just have a soft spot for them!”

“Who comes to eat here that isn’t having a hard time? I help where I can.”

Old Mou looked down on Old Shen’s attitude, thinking it hypocritical, but he didn’t say anything. After a few buns, he became as talkative as if he’d been drinking. “You big philanthropist, if you’re helping them, why not help your little brother here? Didn’t some chain group come by a while ago? All dressed in suits and ties, they’ve snatched up all my business! You have a lot of foot traffic here. I asked you to help me reel in some customers, I’d give you a cut, but you weren’t willing.”

A customer sitting nearby sized up Old Mou, a look of displeasure in his eyes. But Old Mou was thick-skinned and immediately leaned over to hand him a business card. “Brother, this is what I do, a one-stop service, satisfaction guaranteed. Take a look.”

What else could a one-stop service at a hospital entrance be? The customer glanced at the card and ignored Old Mou. Having been in this line of work for a while, Old Mou had seen more than his share of disdainful looks and was immune. He put on a mournful expression. “Everyone has to go through this in life. You have to look on the bright side.”

Old Shen finished his meal and cleared his own dishes. Seeing he was about to leave, Old Mou wolfed down the remaining buns and chased after him. “Old Shen, I came to ask you for a real favor today!”

Old Shen gestured for him to scan the payment code. He gave a sheepish laugh, paid, and then said, “Just help a brother out! Business is tough these days. They’re a corporate army, and I’m just a lone soldier. I really can’t compete!”

Old Shen turned around. “It’s not that I won’t help you, but I really can’t set this precedent. You’ve seen my shop; it’s always full of family members during mealtimes. Which one of you funeral service providers hasn’t approached me? If I agree to one, won’t the others all come asking? When that happens, they’ll all be crowded here. How am I supposed to sell food?”

“How can the others compare to us? We’re from the same hometown!”

Old Shen still shook his head. Just as Old Mou was about to continue, Old Shen’s apprentice came out. He was a sturdy, tall young man from the countryside. Carrying a pot of hot congee, he glared at Old Mou, who immediately shrank back. “Fine, fine, I’ll come back in a couple of days!”

Leaving the restaurant, Old Mou spat several times, cursing all the way. “Pah! Who does he think he is? People call you ‘boss,’ and you really think you’re a boss?”

By now, the sky was fully bright. Outside the Third Hospital, across the street from Old Shen’s restaurant, a crowd of people seeking medical help had gathered, along with many like Old Mou, who were hoping they would die soon so they could get their funeral business.

Old Mou squatted for half the day but didn’t land a single client. As he was smoking by the roadside to vent his frustration, he saw the family he had given his card to that morning standing with another tout. A surge of anger rose in him, and he rushed over, trying to snatch the business back. The family, seeing his sharp-chinned, monkey-like face, was annoyed from the start. They rejected both, and another tout swooped in and got the deal.

Failing to get the business, Old Mou got into a shouting match with the other guy, and they even threw a few punches before being stopped by hospital security. This kind of thing was all too common at the Third Hospital. The security guards chased them away without calling the police.

Old Mou hadn’t had a single client in almost a week. If he couldn’t get any business soon, he’d be left with nothing to eat! After the guards were gone, he snuck back to the hospital and wandered aimlessly through the well-manicured garden below the inpatient building.

He hadn’t been wandering long when he ran into an acquaintance. Old Mou immediately put on a fawning, smiling face. “Sister Xiangli, getting off work?”

The person who had come was a caregiver named Chen Xiangli. She wasn’t a hospital employee but had been working here for a long time, caring for cancer patients. In Old Mou’s eyes, she was as good as a nurse.

Chen Xiangli looked at Old Mou, frowned, and tried to walk around him. Old Mou immediately chased after her. “Hey, Sister Xiangli, why so distant with your old brother? Can’t even say hello?”

Chen Xiangli said, “I have things to do.”

“I know, I know, you’re all busy people.” Old Mou took a step, cutting in front of Chen Xiangli, and deliberately lowered his voice. “Do your old brother a favor, will you? Bring me some clients.”

Chen Xiangli tried to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and she couldn’t shake him off. She said urgently, “I’m going to call for help!”

“Go ahead, I haven’t done anything to you.” Old Mou let go, his eyes cold. He stuffed a stack of business cards into Chen Xiangli’s pocket. “Your employers trust you. When the time comes, put in a good word for your old brother. I won’t treat you unfairly.”

Eager to get away, Chen Xiangli could only nod.

Old Mou stood there, wiped his nose, spat on the ground, and left.

Chen Xiangli looked back at his retreating figure, the disgust in her eyes impossible to hide.

---

At noon, Old Shen’s restaurant hit its second peak dining time of the day. Ten large stainless-steel basins were placed at the shop’s entrance, mostly filled with meat dishes. Customers could scoop whatever they wanted.

Ji Chenjiao and Ling Lie had just come out of the Third Hospital. Ji Chenjiao held their medical reports in one hand and his phone in the other, searching for food nearby. The medical check-up required fasting. Although the VIP check-up center provided a nutritional meal, Ling Lie felt that the pastries and congee weren’t filling enough and insisted on having a proper meal outside. Ji Chenjiao found a cafe and was about to show it to Ling Lie when Ling Lie grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, it’s crowded over there!”

Ji Chenjiao had no desire to join a crowded stall, but Ling Lie was the opposite. Crowded? It must be delicious!

Ling Lie had Ji Chenjiao sit at a table on the edge, using his long legs to save the spot, while he went and snatched two lunch boxes piled high with food.

Ji Chenjiao looked at his, then at Ling Lie’s. “How come the dishes are different?” In his mind, when you ate a ten-something-yuan lunch box like this, everyone should have the exact same dishes.

Ling Lie separated his chopsticks and, with his first move, snatched the minced meat and eggplant from Ji Chenjiao’s box. “This way, I get to eat two portions.”

Ji Chenjiao was speechless.

The reason they were at Feng City’s Third Hospital for a medical check-up was that they would be staying in Feng City for a while, operating as members of the Special Operations Team.

The Wei Liang case was still under investigation, but due to the appearance of “Snow Child” and the footprints similar to those in the Liu Yixiang case, the direction of the investigation had changed.

The Feng City police had completed all their background checks, including looking into Wei Liang’s relationships during his time in prison. Wei Liang had been sentenced to fifteen years. He had behaved well in prison and had his sentence reduced. He had no conflicts with anyone in prison. After his release, he was not well-liked at his uncle’s home. He didn’t dare to argue with his family and became increasingly silent, his only hobby being to sing on his phone in a secluded spot after work.

He wasn’t a good singer; it was purely for his own entertainment.

The young man he had killed was not a local of Feng City. Checks on his family and friends showed they had no alibi, nor was there any possibility of a hired killer.

In both the Wei Liang case and the Huang Xuntong case, the killer seemed to be targeting Ling Lie.

In the Liu Yixiang case, the killer wore Ling Lie’s sneakers, killed Liu Yixiang in Ling Lie’s rented house, and even dressed Liu Yixiang in Ling Lie’s kung fu robe. The intent to frame him was very obvious.

In the Wei Liang case, the killer wore the same model of sneakers as Ling Lie, leaving the same shoe print, and deliberately made his move on the day Ling Lie visited Wei Liang. If Ling Lie hadn’t rushed to the train station immediately after leaving the hot pot restaurant, he would have been the most likely suspect.

However, the killer’s motive was baffling. Why frame Ling Lie? Even more bizarre was “Snow Child.” In the Wei Liang case, “Snow Child” was not necessary. The killer already had Wei Liang under control and had countless ways to kill him. Choosing “Snow Child” was actually very irrational. Although the building was uninhabited, what if someone had returned before Wei Liang died?

Since “Snow Child” was used, did the killer want the police to connect Ling Lie with “Snow Child”? Once that connection was made, Ling Lie would be linked to the mysterious “Snow Child” cases in the north.

So, was the Liu Yixiang case also related to “Snow Child”?

Killing Liu Yixiang to frame Ling Lie was understandable; the person died in Ling Lie’s house. But what about Wei Liang? If the killer just wanted to kill someone to frame Ling Lie, why specifically kill Wei Liang? How long had he been preparing to be able to “coincidentally” kill Wei Liang on the day Ling Lie came to Feng City?

Choosing Wei Liang meant the killer knew about Ling Lie’s relationship with the Wei family. He didn’t just want to frame Ling Lie; he wanted to hurt him with this act.

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Before the case happened, who knew about your relationship with Wei Liang?”

Ling Lie said three names: a retired, decorated leader of the Special Operations Team who was a very famous figure in the police world; Shen Xun; and Xiao Yu’an.

“None of them would have leaked it,” Ling Lie said.

Ji Chenjiao said, “You don’t doubt Xiao Yu’an at all?”

Ling Lie blinked. “Should I doubt him?”

Ji Chenjiao analyzed rationally. Shen Xun was now in charge of the Special Operations Team, so he was ruled out. If no one else knew the inside story, then why wasn’t Xiao Yu’an worth suspecting?

But Ling Lie laughed. “I would sooner suspect that retired old leader than I would Xiao Yu’an.”

Ji Chenjiao felt a strange twinge of jealousy. Recently, Ling Lie had told him a lot about his early days in the Special Operations Team, and Xiao Yu’an’s name came up every other sentence. Back then, Ling Lie was not yet twenty, a green and inexperienced youth, not like the current version where eight out of ten sentences were not serious.

He had met Ling Lie earlier, but it seemed he had missed a very important period in Ling Lie’s life.

The thought of a naive-faced Ling Lie chasing after Xiao Yu’an calling him “Captain,” while calling him “Captain Ji” with a sarcastic tone, made that jealousy ferment into a sour taste.

“Ling Lie,” Ji Chenjiao called out.

Ling Lie: “Hm?”

“How do you address Xiao Yu’an?”

“Captain.”

“Have you ever called him Captain Xiao?”

Ling Lie thought for a moment and smiled. “That would be so cheeky.”

Ji Chenjiao immediately felt even more sour.

The Special Operations Team was taking this case very seriously. Shen Xun had a video call with Ling Lie to discuss investigative ideas. Ling Lie mentioned that while investigating the Wei Liang case, he also wanted to solve a cold case in Feng City—the only one Wei Zhiyong had failed to crack during his lifetime. He couldn’t protect his son, but he at least wanted to fulfill his wish of solving that cold case.

Considering Ling Lie would be operating in Feng City for an extended period, Shen Xun reminded him that his Special Operations Team investigation permit was about to expire and that renewing it required a medical report.

Just then, Ji Chenjiao proposed that he wanted to work on the case with Ling Lie. The reason was simple: the Liu Yixiang case was a Xiarong City case, and since it was connected to Ling Lie, he had a responsibility to participate in the investigation.

This was not a decision Ji Chenjiao made alone. On his second day in Feng City, he received a call from Xie Qing. Xie Qing knew that due to the Ji Nuocheng case, he was in a state of extreme mental and physical exhaustion and needed a long break to recover. Plus, he had been so busy with work over the years that he had never taken a vacation. So, Xie Qing approved a long leave for him, allowing him to temporarily step away from the cases in Xiarong City. Liang Wenxian and Xi Wan also sent him messages, telling him not to worry, that they would handle any cases efficiently.

After consideration, Shen Xun decided to issue Ji Chenjiao a temporary permit, which also required a medical certificate.

Ling Lie was still laughing at the side. “Captain Ji, from now on, you’re my temporary subordinate.”

In front of Shen Xun, Ji Chenjiao didn’t argue with him.

After the medical check-up today, the reports would be sent back to the Special Operations Team, and after some paperwork, the permits would be issued. Ji Chenjiao watched as Ling Lie unabashedly picked meat from his lunch box and couldn’t help but think—is the role of a temporary subordinate to let the leader eat two lunch boxes’ worth of food anytime, anywhere?

Ling Lie suddenly looked up, and his eyes met Ji Chenjiao’s. Both of them paused.

Ever since that day in the car when he had asked Ji Chenjiao for a hug, things between them had changed.

Ling Lie never confided in anyone; Ji Chenjiao was the first. Ling Lie also never showed weakness to anyone, not even to Xiao Yu’an; Ji Chenjiao was still the first.

Looking back, when he asked Ji Chenjiao to hold him, it was almost like throwing himself at him. If the atmosphere hadn’t reached a certain critical point, and if it hadn’t been Ji Chenjiao sitting next to him, he definitely wouldn’t have done such a thing.

It was as if Ji Chenjiao had become the reason. Because it was Ji Chenjiao, it was okay.

“I want to eat this.” Ji Chenjiao picked up the fried loach from Ling Lie’s box. He tried it. It was okay, but not as good as Ling Lie’s cooking.

Ling Lie laughed. “How bold! A mere temporary worker dares to touch the food in his leader’s bowl!”

Ji Chenjiao turned his chopsticks around and tapped Ling Lie on the forehead. “I even dare to mess with the leader’s head. What are you going to do about it?”

Ling Lie: “You just wait. Once work starts, I’ll make things difficult for you.”

---

Back at the Municipal Bureau, Ling Lie sent their medical reports to the Special Operations Team and received their permits a few days later.

Shen Xun had actually prepared them long ago. This was, in a way, Ling Lie’s official return to the team. He had been very worried about Ling Lie’s current state, but Ling Lie had been surprisingly calm during the meeting that day, even analyzing step-by-step the progression from the Liu Yixiang case to the Wei Liang case, concluding that the other party wanted to provoke him incrementally.

Initially, Shen Xun was very uneasy about Ling Lie. Ling Lie was not his subordinate; he was eccentric and stubborn, and had always only listened to Xiao Yu’an. After Xiao Yu’an’s transfer, Ling Lie became an uncontrollable team member, even holding a grudge against the entire Special Operations Team because of Xiao Yu’an.

The team’s psychologist had said that Ling Lie was a very dangerous team member. For a special department like the Special Operations Team, dangerous members were indispensable. Used well, they were a treasure; if they couldn’t be controlled, they were a ticking time bomb.

But this time, Ling Lie’s wildness seemed to have been tamed a lot, and he seemed to be under some sort of restraint again.

Shen Xun couldn’t help but think of Ji Chenjiao. He had heard that Ling Lie had been staying with him ever since he arrived in Xiarong City. Was Ling Lie’s change because of Ji Chenjiao?

Shen Xun picked up Ji Chenjiao’s file. This was also a man with a dramatic life story. Raised by a couple who were murderers, he had somehow grown up to be an elite criminal detective and had recently personally solved the murder case his adoptive parents committed twenty years ago. And Ji Chenjiao’s mentor, Ning Xiechen, was once a formidable figure in the Xia Rong City police force, with many rumors circulating after his disappearance.

From Shen Xun’s perspective, neither Ji Chenjiao nor Ling Lie was easy to handle, but their chemistry seemed to be a good match. Having come from the front lines himself, Shen Xun knew that rapport played a crucial role among people like them.

Well then, let’s see to what extent these two can influence each other. Hopefully, those influences are all positive.

Ji Chenjiao put away the permits and printed a copy of his and Ling Lie’s. Ling Lie laughed at him, “How novel!”

Ji Chenjiao snorted. “Yes, I am, after all, a local detective who hasn’t seen the world.”

Ling Lie tidied up his desk and whistled as he walked out—this office was provided by the Feng City Municipal Bureau for the Special Operations Team, serving as a temporary command center for the Wei Liang case.

Ji Chenjiao followed him. “Where are you going?”

“To get the case file for the cold case, the one Wei Zhiyong didn’t solve.”

The archive room exuded a smell that had brewed from paper over many years. Here, everything became old, and time itself seemed to slow down. Ji Chenjiao felt that although they were all archive rooms, the smell behind the heavy doors of every municipal bureau, sub-bureau, and police station was different. They held different stories, different tragedies, and the resulting aromas were distinctly different. This was a difference only a criminal detective could discern.

While Ji Chenjiao was lost in thought, Ling Lie had already walked to a shelf, following the file numbers. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and charcoal gray sweatpants. The bright afternoon light streamed in through the window, making his already fair skin appear even more transparent.

He focused on the numbers on the shelf, his fingers sliding lightly over the spines of the files. Motes of dust swirled around him, like ghosts conjured from the case files, silently begging him to bring the long-overdue truth.

“Found it.” Ling Lie took down a stack of files and opened it. Inside were the records of two murder cases that occurred seventeen years ago in Feng’an County, Feng City.

Feng City and Xiarong City were different in scale. If Xiarong City was a metropolis, Feng City was a stable, small coastal city that relied on cultural tourism for its development. Among its most famous cultural aspects were its funeral and ghost cultures.

Feng City had a county that floated on the sea, called Fengchao County. The island was filled with various underworld-themed buildings. Every year around the Ghost Festival, a month-long “Ten Thousand Ghosts Parade the Island” event was held, attracting a large number of tourists.

Such events required many props, such as dolls, spirit cars, and flower wreaths, a large portion of which were made of paper.

And in another county of Feng City, Feng’an County, most of the population was in the business of “white affairs” (funerals). They usually made paper wreaths, houses, and other items for the funeral industry, and during July and August, they supplied the events in Fengchao County.

The case had caused a huge sensation back then because the victim was Tan Fabin, a famous master craftsman of white affairs in Feng’an County.

The Tan family had been making paper crafts for generations. By Tan Fabin’s generation, the craft had been further developed. Not only was Tan Fabin highly skilled and introduced new works every year, but he also brought in corporate management methods, standardized production, and promoted his work in other regions, turning the Tan family into the top white affairs workshop in Feng’an County.

However, seventeen years ago, he was murdered in his own workshop. His body was bound in a meditative posture, with a bamboo stick used for making paper houses propping up his back, keeping his upper body erect.

A paper house covered him. When he was discovered, the snow-white paper house had been dyed blackish-red.

This extremely bizarre scene immediately made the police think of ritual. But unlike the ritualism seen in ordinary murder cases, this time the ritualism clearly carried a certain evil meaning.

Upon investigation, the paper house also had a story. It was a new design by Tan Fabin that had already been favored by many buyers. After promotion, the Tan family was set to make a fortune.

Starting from this bizarre ritualism, coupled with the meaning behind the paper house, the then head of the task force, Wei Zhiyong, quickly determined the direction of the investigation—a crime committed by a peer driven by jealousy and hatred.

Investigative methods were limited at the time, but the task force’s actions were undoubtedly swift. In three days, they completed a survey of the white affairs industry in Feng’an County. At least seven people fit the criminal profile and lacked an alibi.

However, in the subsequent focused investigation, none of the seven confessed, and the police couldn’t find any decisive evidence.

At the crucial crime scene, the killer had cleaned up the footprints. The murder weapon was a common pointed vegetable knife in the county, making it difficult to trace the killer through the weapon.

While closely monitoring the seven possible suspects, Wei Zhiyong turned to other directions, investigating Tan Fabin’s personal relationships. Tan Fabin was only thirty when he was killed, a talented young man. He was generous, competed only with his craft, rarely had disputes with others, and was obsessed with ghost and spirit culture.

This last point caught Wei Zhiyong’s attention. The killer made Tan Fabin die amidst his proudest work and the culture he was equally obsessed with. Did the killer hate Tan Fabin himself, or the culture Tan Fabin so highly esteemed?

However, although he had ideas, the investigation was very difficult. Looking at the detailed investigation records in the file, Wei Zhiyong never gave up, but the people he suspected were either eventually cleared of suspicion or there was no evidence to arrest them.

Five months later, another murder occurred in Feng’an County, with the body bound and placed in a paper house.

The victim was another craftsman, Bi Jiang. The paper house covering him was also made by his own hands, and the entire scene was a carbon copy of the Tan Fabin case.

But besides being paper-craft artisans, Bi Jiang and Tan Fabin had almost nothing in common. Tan Fabin was a leader in the industry, while Bi Jiang was a bottom-tier craftsman whose work was far inferior to the Tan family’s in both aesthetics and quality. He wasn’t the ambitious type either. He had taken over the workshop from his elders and was just getting by, making enough to feed his family.

He did not love the ghost and spirit culture, nor was he keen on promoting it like Tan Fabin. In modern terms, he was a very laid-back slacker.

The similar scene initially led Wei Zhiyong to believe it was the same killer striking again. But as the investigation into Bi Jiang deepened, Wei Zhiyong began to think it might be a copycat crime.

But the same problem remained: there was still no conclusive evidence.

Every place has its unsolved cases. When new murder cases arose, with limited police resources, Wei Zhiyong had to shift his energy to the new cases. The two cases in Feng’an County were covered in a thick layer of dust over the years, becoming one of Wei Zhiyong’s two major regrets at the time of his death.

The other regret was not finding the child he had saved but failed to protect, A’dou.

Ling Lie learned from Xiao Yu’an that Wei Zhiyong had been looking for him. This stubborn and simple man had dedicated his entire life to the noble cause of being a police officer.

Wei Zhiyong once had the opportunity to become a member of the Special Operations Team. Although he was over the age limit when the team was formed, he was competent enough to pass on his experience to the younger generation. However, Wei Zhiyong refused, simply because he didn’t want to leave Feng City. That city still needed his protection, and there were still unsolved cases in that city.

Wei Zhiyong had mentioned to Xiao Yu’an the child he had rescued from the border in his youth. The child had no identification and no photo. All he knew was that the child’s name was A’dou.

Wei Zhiyong had said with a chuckle that although he didn’t become a member of the Special Operations Team, he still wanted to shamelessly ask the team for a favor: to find this child.

Ling Lie snapped out of his memories, realizing he had once again been immersed in those emotions related to Wei Zhiyong and Xiao Yu’an. They were two very important people in his life, who had saved him once, and then a second time. When he escaped from “Chen Jin” all those years ago, he had only wanted to see the warm and beautiful south that his sister had spoken of. Who would have known that now, more than twenty years later, he had become a guardian of peace himself.

And now, another important person had appeared by his side.

Ling Lie’s gaze shifted from the case file to Ji Chenjiao. Ji Chenjiao was looking at another file, his brow slightly furrowed, his thin lips pressed together. From the side, his features were sharp.

Noticing the gaze tracing his face, Ji Chenjiao turned his head and raised an eyebrow slightly. “Are you looking at me?”