Tonghe City, Luzhang County.

An old police officer recalled that Wang Shun had originally been a feed dealer in a town under Luzhang County. Back in those days, feed was a lucrative business. After saving up some money, he jumped on the self-built housing boom and quickly became one of the richest people in the county.

Wang Shun’s older sister was the first in the Wang family to venture out into the world. She ran a clothing business with her husband, donned gold and silver early on, and often gave financial support to her younger brother’s family. Unfortunately, she and her husband died in a car accident while sourcing goods, leaving behind a high school–aged son, Liu Yixiang.

Wang Shun took Liu Yixiang into his home, and not long after, moved the whole family from the town to the county seat to support Liu Yixiang’s education. It was said he even planned to send him to university. But Liu Yixiang was unmotivated and constantly caused trouble, so Wang Shun had no choice but to keep him at home, letting him help with the family business.

However, Liu Yixiang felt no gratitude toward his uncle’s family. Not only did he mess up several business ventures, he would frequently verbally abuse his cousins.

The public only knew about these matters because the Wang family was often heard arguing. Ding Guifen and Luo Qun couldn’t help but complain to their neighbors about Liu Yixiang, saying that Wang Shun was too softhearted—Liu Yixiang was his poor late sister’s only child, and he couldn’t bring himself to kick him out.

After extensive interviews, the police concluded that the fire had been arson—and the arsonist was Liu Yixiang.

That night, after yet another conflict with the Wang family, he waited until they had all fallen asleep, then bludgeoned them to death with a hammer. Realizing there was no escaping the consequences—or perhaps consumed by remorse—he set the fire, choosing to die alongside them.

But as the fire spread, driven by fear and the instinct to survive, he fled toward a window, only to be consumed by the flames.

This would explain why five of the bodies were found in bed, while the sixth was by the window and bore unmistakable signs of having been burned alive.

After reviewing the case file, Ji Chenjiao still found the case suspicious. With the forensic technology of the time, it was impossible to confirm through DNA that the deceased were definitively the six residents of 21 Lüguang Lane—especially the person found by the window.

Liu Yixiang had long held resentment toward his uncle’s family. If he committed the murders in a fit of rage and feared punishment, it was far more likely he would have fled. Even if guilt compelled him to commit suicide, he probably wouldn’t have chosen such a painful way to die.

Why arson? Based on his personality, would he really choose such a cruel way to punish himself?

In the major crimes unit, the cases were always bizarre and unpredictable. The criminals Ji Chenjiao dealt with were either ruthlessly violent or cunningly deceptive. Burning was among the most agonizing forms of death—but also the most efficient “cleanser.” So he had to wonder—was the version in the file really the truth?

That said, the fire didn’t seem connected to Huang Xuntong. If there were any thread linking the two, it was that Huang Xuntong had been working in Luzhang County at the time. Based on the nature of local jobs, he was likely doing construction, and Wang Shun ran a construction business. Perhaps they were employer and worker.

But there was no proof, and no witness.

Another point—on October 19th, the day of the fire, Huang Xuntong had sent his last remittance to Granny Huang just a week earlier, on the 12th.

At that moment, Liang Wenxian called. He had discovered that Ji Ke had once sold tiles in Luzhang County fifteen years ago. All at once, a flurry of threads exploded in Ji Chenjiao’s mind. Everything that once seemed unrelated began to intertwine—chaotically but undeniably connected.

Fifteen years ago: tile business, self-built houses, a fire, construction laborers, a boss, a worker…

Huang Xuntong had left home to work for Granny Huang’s sake, but suddenly stopped sending her money fifteen years ago. He then moved from Luzhang County to Xiarong City, becoming Ji Ke’s neighbor.

That same year, Wang Shun’s family was murdered. The suspect was his nephew Liu Yixiang, but forensics couldn’t definitively confirm the sixth body was Liu Yixiang.

Huang Xuntong never left Xiarong City again, working diligently and saving up for a second-hand apartment. He even obtained household registration—yes, only after buying the apartment did he reapply for his ID.

Three years ago, the same year Ji Ke died of illness, Huang Xuntong’s personality inexplicably changed. He stopped working hard and began drifting.

Ji Chenjiao had never figured out what triggered this change. Even suspecting it was connected to Ji Ke’s death didn’t help—because besides being neighbors, they had no apparent relationship.

But now they did. When the Wang family fire occurred, they might have both been in Luzhang County. If they were involved in the fire, and Ji Ke knew some secret about Huang Xuntong, it would make sense that Huang Xuntong had been forced to behave himself.

Suddenly, a light went on in Ji Chenjiao’s mind. Had Huang Xuntong, over the past three years, been “letting himself go” after that constraint disappeared?

Ji Zhan inherited Ji Ke’s unit 4-2. Huang Xuntong repeatedly tried to keep renters away—was it because 4-2 was hiding a secret? Was he afraid it would be uncovered?

But his rumors hadn’t stopped Ling Lie from moving in. So he paid close attention to Ling Lie—the only time he ever got into a confrontation with anyone was with him. But what about his hatred for “pretty boys”—where did that come from?

Fifteen years later, Huang Xuntong died in Ji Ke’s old apartment, unit 4-2, wearing Ling Lie’s martial arts robe. Ling Lie was now under surveillance by the major crimes team…

Ji Chenjiao pressed against his throbbing brow. Could the root of everything lie in that fire at the Wang residence?

The bodies from that case had already been cremated and buried—not something they could exhume and reexamine. Fortunately, the local police had preserved a few photos of the Wang family from before their deaths. The resolution was low; only general features could be made out.

In the photos, Liu Yixiang wore a sleeveless undershirt. He was thin, with a full head of thick hair that looked like a storm cloud. All his photos were solo shots—he wasn’t in any of the Wang family portraits. Looking closely, Liu Yixiang had delicate features. In a time and place that prized masculinity and strength, especially in a small county, someone with his appearance would have been considered effeminate.

Ji Chenjiao brought the photo closer and compared it to one of Huang Xuntong. One was in his twenties, the other in his early forties. Given the poor image quality and the scarring on Huang Xuntong’s face, there was no visible resemblance.

But the two were around the same age. If Liu Yixiang had survived, he too would be in his forties now.

Ji Chenjiao began to suspect something—but had no proof. Time may have already swallowed all the evidence, like that raging fire.

Still, since he had come this far, even if there was no proof, he had to keep digging. The past was like thousands of tiles, pieced together to form the reality of fifteen years later.

The core figure of the fire was Liu Yixiang. Investigating his local connections would be easier than tracking the outsider laborer Huang Xuntong or the tile seller Ji Ke.

Lüguang Lane had long since been rebuilt after the fire. Locals considered the massacre an ill omen, so they demolished not just the Wang residence but nearby homes as well, replacing them with a small park. Events were often held there, drums and gongs resounding in hopes of driving out bad spirits.

Over the years, the place had become a small city center. The younger generation didn’t care about superstition—they just went where the crowds were for business.

Ling Lie sat in a dessert shop on Lüguang Lane, eating red bean double-skin milk while eagerly listening to the owner recount the legend of the Wang family. He ate quickly, his belly like a black hole. In no time at all, he had polished off three bowls.

“When the fire happened, I was only ten. I was scared out of my wits. Everyone said that Wang Shun’s nephew repaid kindness with enmity and got his uncle’s whole family killed. Some even said he had a conscience and wanted to die with them—but in the end, he still tried to escape. Ran to the window and realized it was welded shut!”

Ling Lie raised his hand. “Didn’t he live there? Why would he run to a window he couldn’t get out of?”

The shop owner, just a gossip messenger with no habit of thinking things through, was stunned for a moment. “How… how would I know?”

Ling Lie picked up the menu again. He was tired of red bean double-skin milk. This time he chose coconut herbal jelly. “If your house caught fire all of a sudden, would you run to a welded-shut window?”

Now the boss understood. “I’m not an idiot!”

“Then why did he run there?” Ling Lie handed back the menu. “Unless he didn’t know the window couldn’t be opened. But that was his house—how could he not know?”

The boss couldn’t be bothered to figure it out. “I’ve got another story about Liu Yixiang. Wanna hear it?”

Ling Lie was intrigued. “Yeah.”

“I only found this out after opening this shop. Everyone around here knows Liu Yixiang started the fire. He hated his uncle’s family—every household says so.” The boss poured coconut milk over the herbal jelly and even added a mint leaf as garnish. “But one time, a group of customers came to eat here. Since I’m so close to where it happened, they started talking about the Wang family. The stuff they said was pretty much what I just told you. And guess what?”

Ling Lie played along. “What?”

“One guy suddenly slapped the table and stood up. Said the Wang family deserved it! Said Liu Yixiang wasn’t a bad person—he was driven mad by his damned uncle and aunt!”

The herbal jelly arrived. Ling Lie ate while listening, occasionally grunting and nodding in agreement, applauding the boss’s dramatic storytelling.

This was another version of the Wang family tragedy—

Back when Wang Shun was young, he wasn’t very capable. Just a worker in a feed factory in town. His elder sister and her husband, who ran a clothing business, often sent them money and had even planned to bring Wang Shun and his wife Luo Qun to the city to do business.

Before the accident, the sister and her husband had already bought land in Luzhang County, planning to build a shop and hand over the county business to Wang Shun’s family.

That plot of land would later become No. 21, Luguang Alley.

After his sister and brother-in-law died, they left behind a significant inheritance for that time—and a son in middle school. Under the pretense of “taking care of Liu Yixiang,” Wang Shun became the actual inheritor of the estate.

It was thanks to this money that Wang Shun transformed from a lowly feed factory worker into a wealthy homeowner and construction businessman.

Outwardly, the Wang family claimed they treated Liu Yixiang like their own son, but in reality, they subjected him to years of emotional abuse. Liu Yixiang had good grades and planned to go to university. They were afraid that once he did, he’d reclaim everything that was rightfully his. So, they broke his hand, claimed he got into a fight with thugs and locked him up at home, causing him to miss the college entrance exam.

Over the years, Liu Yixiang tried to resist, but Wang Shun’s business, true to his name, went from strength to strength. His influence in the county grew. Outsiders believed he was a good uncle, and even endorsed the idea that “spare the rod, spoil the child.” They thought that if Wang Shun beat Liu Yixiang, it was because he couldn’t bear to see him waste his life.

Eventually, Liu Yixiang changed from a spirited youth into a withdrawn and neurotic man. Though he grew older, it was as if he hadn’t. The shadow of his uncle’s family loomed over him constantly. They had thrived on the death of his parents, growing into a monstrous tree, while he, the only one who knew the truth, was entangled in its vines, never able to escape.

His only way out was to destroy the entire tree.

So after yet another explosive family conflict, he killed his uncle’s entire family—and died in the fire himself.

Maybe, in that final moment, he imagined himself being reborn like a phoenix from the flames.

The boss looked quite pleased with his own poetic storytelling and winked at Ling Lie, clearly waiting for some praise.

Ling Lie polished off the herbal jelly, then said, “But the ending’s the same in both versions—Liu Yixiang still killed Wang Shun’s family.”

The boss said, “Hey! But the character setting is different!”

Ling Lie clapped playfully. “Still doesn’t explain why he tried to escape through a sealed window.”

Boss: “…”

“Oh right,” Ling Lie asked, “that guy who slapped the table—who was he?”

“You’re asking the right person. Whether I make money or not doesn’t matter—I love eavesdropping! That guy’s a doctor. He runs a clinic right across the street. He and Liu Yixiang used to be close buddies. I think what he said might carry a bit of weight.” The boss tried to point across the glass door, but suddenly someone appeared outside. He froze. The person had such a powerful presence that the usual “Welcome” got stuck in his throat.

Ling Lie turned and locked eyes directly with Ji Chenjiao.

Ji Chenjiao glanced at the empty bowls on the table, his eyelid twitching slightly.

But Ling Lie was entirely at ease. He grinned and said, “Boss, how much? The guy who’s paying is here.”