Fifteen years ago, a group of migrant construction workers, hearing that many houses were being built in Luchang County and that the boss there paid promptly, hopped onto a freight truck and rumbled their way over shortly after the Spring Festival.

The workers came from all over the country and didn’t know each other at first, but working alone often meant being bullied by the foreman. So after getting acquainted on one site, they’d often stick together to the next.

Huang Xuntong had joined the team late. He was thin and frail, not as efficient as the others, and not much of a talker. After work, while others gathered to play cards and drink, he would pull a book from under his pillow and read.

Though the team was formed voluntarily, with no set hierarchy, over time every group naturally produced someone whose word carried weight.

The self-proclaimed boss disliked Huang Xuntong for being so quiet. “Acting all high and mighty, like he’s better than us.” Since he didn’t play cards, they threw away his books. Since he didn’t drink, they pinned him to the floor and laughingly poured liquor down his throat.

The filthiest jobs on the site were always assigned to him. After all, he didn’t fit in.

Even so, Huang Xuntong never left the crew. He had been doing odd jobs for years. Sometimes he worked hard for months and didn’t get a single cent. Sometimes the boss refused to give them meat—three meals a day were just boiled greens and rice.

He wasn’t eloquent, couldn’t fight, couldn’t argue his way out of things. He never managed to get his wages back, and was constantly being beaten or intimidated.

But since joining this current crew, he no longer had to worry about food or money. Whenever there was a problem, the leaders of the group would negotiate with the boss.

Putting up with some bullying and humiliation was nothing compared to being denied your wages.

So Huang Xuntong stayed. And the others didn’t drive him away.

Every group has someone who leads, and someone who gets trampled. If he left, who would they have fun mocking?

The Wang family—the wealthiest in Luchang County—wanted a new house built. The crew took on the job: laying foundations, tamping earth, hauling materials… Days passed like this.

But unlike other jobs, this time Huang Xuntong made a friend—Liu Yixiang, the boss’s nephew.

Liu Yixiang was notorious in town, a leech who had been taken care of by his uncle’s family for years but never showed gratitude.

By chance, he went to the site to deliver materials and ran into Huang Xuntong. It was break time, and the other workers were hiding from the sun in the shed—playing cards, napping. Only Huang Xuntong was there, drenched in sweat, bustling around.

“You’re the only one?” Liu Yixiang asked, puzzled.

“It’s my turn,” Huang Xuntong said with a smile, wiping his face.

In that moment, Liu Yixiang understood: this was someone like him. Marginalized, mistreated, and over time, numbed to the abuse.

“I’ll help you,” Liu Yixiang said, jumping off the truck and lifting materials with him.

After that, they gradually grew closer. By then, Liu Yixiang had finished his long period of staying home. Wang Shun had ordered him to shuttle materials between construction sites, and he hadn’t refused—half a construction worker himself now, with things to talk about with Huang Xuntong.

Their conversations drifted from work to life. Two nobodies found a shared language. At first, Liu Yixiang thought Huang Xuntong was like him—resigned to being stepped on. But Huang Xuntong shook his head, eyes gleaming. “I’m just using them. I need to make money with them.”

At that moment, something clicked inside Liu Yixiang. He began to feel more driven, the hatred he had suppressed for years sprouting like a tender shoot pushing through soil.

Soon, his childhood friend Gong Xiang came back. Over the years, Liu Yixiang had avoided him. They used to be best friends, but now their lives were worlds apart. Whenever Gong Xiang asked to meet, Liu Yixiang would find excuses to dodge.

But this time was different. He wanted Gong Xiang to know he’d made a new friend—and more than that, he felt a strange surge of courage.

Drunk, he remembered spilling his heart to Gong Xiang: I’m going to kill them!

The beasts of the Wang family had taken everything from him. One day, he would take it all back.

That day didn’t seem particularly different. Once again, he became their target. Wang Shun pointed at his nose and cursed him out, the whole family sneering with thinly veiled contempt. He screamed back, hysterical, loud enough for several buildings to hear.

After all that, the beasts had the audacity to go to sleep peacefully. Well, what could he possibly do?

Plenty.

That night, still seething, Liu Yixiang grabbed a household hammer and crept into the four bedrooms. One by one, like cracking eggshells, he smashed open the beasts’ skulls.

But after killing the last one, a fog of confusion set in. What now? If he were caught, he’d be sentenced to death, wouldn’t he?

The crime had already corroded his mind. What he needed was someone to take the fall in his place. Who?

No—who could he find?

The answer was already screaming in his head.

Liu Yixiang, flustered, found Huang Xuntong and said something had happened at home—he needed help. Huang Xuntong followed him inside, only to be trapped by a blood-eyed Liu Yixiang. A fire engulfed the place, burning one man to death and giving another a new life.

…Was that how it happened?

Ji Chenjiao stared at his reflection in the window glass.

It had been Huang Xuntong who died back then, and the one who later died in apartment 4-2 was Liu Yixiang. Someone had avenged Huang Xuntong. This person had hidden very well, making it extremely difficult now to find the workers Huang Xuntong had been with, let alone figure out who might have sought revenge on his behalf.

And there was still one more thing—where did Ji Ke fit into this?

He sold tiles in Luchang County and must have had dealings with Wang Shun. Perhaps Liu Yixiang had even delivered his tiles?

He had ties to Wang Shun, Liu Yixiang, maybe even Huang Xuntong. So why would Liu Yixiang dare live in the same building as him?

He should’ve gone somewhere completely unfamiliar, letting time erase the differences in appearance.

Unless Ji Ke was threatening him? But why would Ji Ke do that? Did he know, for some reason, that Liu Yixiang had taken Huang Xuntong’s life?

A thread that had almost been untangled was suddenly knotted.

“Captain Ji, is this really how all you major crimes people think? So cruel?” Another figure appeared in the glass. Ji Chenjiao turned and saw Ling Lie walking over.

“Cruel?”

“Liu Yixiang killed the five Wang family members out of long-harbored hatred, but to burn Huang Xuntong to death—that’s just too much. That was his only friend left—Gong Xiang doesn’t count anymore.”

Ji Chenjiao was suspicious about that too. But based on the current evidence, this scenario was the most plausible. Otherwise, how could one explain Liu Yixiang assuming a new identity? Could it be the two of them had plotted together, and Huang Xuntong volunteered to die?

If it were the latter, Huang Xuntong would’ve surely asked Liu Yixiang to look after his grandmother. Yet in reality, not a single remittance was sent after his death.

When faced with life and death, perhaps Liu Yixiang’s friendship didn’t stand the test.

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Then what do you think?”

Ling Lie replied, “If I were Liu Yixiang, there’s only one possibility. I’d let Huang Xuntong die ‘in my place.’”

“What kind of situation are you imagining?”

“Huang Xuntong was already dead. My friend helped me one last time—I used his name to live on for him. A win-win.”

Ji Chenjiao said, “Doesn’t work. The last body was burned to death.”

Ling Lie thought for a moment. “What if Liu Yixiang didn’t know Huang Xuntong was still alive?”

Ji Chenjiao crossed his arms and walked to the desk, frowning in thought. If Liu Yixiang believed Huang Xuntong was dead and used his body, but in fact Huang Xuntong had only been unconscious—and died in the fire…

What had caused Huang Xuntong’s “first death”? Why had Liu Yixiang mistaken him for dead?

Wait! How had Liu Yixiang, posing as Huang Xuntong, blended into the construction crew?

A chill flickered in Ji Chenjiao’s eyes as if he’d glimpsed the truth. If Liu Yixiang returned to the crew and wasn’t exposed, the only explanation was that the workers had helped conceal his identity.

Why would they cover for a murderer? They were accomplices! Maybe they were the ones who had caused Huang Xuntong’s death!

Could Liu Yixiang have simply run away without returning to the crew?

Impossible. The police had launched an immediate investigation. Any construction team who had worked with Wang Shun was interrogated. If “Huang Xuntong” had fled at that time, he would’ve instantly become a suspect.

Another puzzle seemed to be solved—but then there was still Ji Ke.

Ji Chenjiao was now almost certain—Huang Xuntong’s… no, Liu Yixiang’s death had been orchestrated by someone seeking revenge for Huang Xuntong. This person was extremely hard to track, but they had to be found.

Ji Chenjiao discussed his thoughts with Liang Wenxian over the phone. Before hanging up, Liang Wenxian added, “There’s one more thing I can’t explain besides Ji Ke.”

“What is it?”

“Ling Lie. The one you’ve got with you.”

Ji Chenjiao instinctively turned his head. Ling Lie was flipping through TV channels with the remote.

“I don’t get it,” Liang Lie said. “The killer was avenging Huang Xuntong. Choosing apartment 4-2 could be linked to Ji Ke or the old case. Maybe they knew Ling Lie often didn’t come home at night. But why dress Liu Yixiang in Ling Lie’s martial arts uniform? What’s the point?”

Ji Chenjiao fell silent. “The point was to drag Ling Lie into it.”

“Exactly. That’s the problem. Why drag him in? If it was about framing him, leaving the body in 4-2 already does that. Dressing him up feels unnecessary.”

Ji Chenjiao said, “But in a case like this, nothing the killer does is meaningless.”

The line went quiet. After a moment, Liang Wenxian said, “Then I think Ling Lie and Ji Ke are both knots in the same rope. The killer is using this costume change to express something.”

Finding no good channels, Ling Lie tossed the remote aside, pulled up his blanket, and got ready to sleep.

But just as he closed his eyes, a shadow fell across his vision. He immediately opened them—Ji Chenjiao was bent over, casting his shadow completely across him.

They stared at each other without a word, a silent test of nerves and wits.

Ling Lie was different from every suspect Ji Chenjiao had ever dealt with. He seemed to place full trust in the police, his sharpness hidden behind eyes constantly curved with laughter. If he was innocent, he had an astonishingly calm mind. If he was the killer…

Then he would be the most terrifying murderer Ji Chenjiao had ever encountered.

For a brief moment—an extremely rare moment—Ji Chenjiao doubted himself. If Ling Lie were his opponent, he wasn’t sure he could bring him to justice.

Who knew how long passed? Maybe three minutes. Maybe longer.

Ji Chenjiao finally straightened and left without saying a word. Ling Lie didn’t ask anything either. He pulled up his blanket and went to sleep.

At dawn, the Xieyang Road Police Station received a civilian report.

A body had been found under the bridge.