HC CH42

Chen Jing immediately asked, “What’s her name?”

An Xun couldn’t recall it right away and hurriedly searched on her phone. “Hold on, Captain Chen. That recent ‘Hat Queen’ exposé—she was the one who broke it. Let me check which media outlet it was from… Found it! Rongxing Media, Li Aijie!”

Chen Jing didn’t wait and drove straight to Rongxing Media’s office. Many internet companies have people on duty late into the night, and the office lights were still on. Coincidentally, Li Aijie’s supervisor was also there.

As soon as the supervisor heard that the police were looking for Li Aijie, he exclaimed, “I’ve been trying to find her too!”

Chen Jing asked, “What’s going on?”

“How would I know? She hasn’t come to work for several days, hasn’t submitted her drafts, and her phone is off!” The supervisor was obviously overwhelmed, shouting in frustration, then suddenly noticed something was wrong. He looked nervously at Chen Jing. “Wait… did something happen to Li Aijie?”

Li Aijie. Chen Jing repeated the name in her mind. She asked the supervisor for all of Li Aijie’s contact details, had tech support start tracking her, and questioned the supervisor about her background.

The supervisor clearly wanted to distance himself. “I just hired her. Whatever she does after hours, I have no idea.”

Chen Jing felt a headache coming on. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a wall of awards. From January to April, Li Aijie had been “Star Reporter” every single month.

“Looks like she’s brought you quite a bit of traffic,” Chen Jing said as she pulled out a chair and sat down. “Relax. Just tell me what you know about her.”

Realizing he couldn’t get rid of the police, the supervisor began recalling. “She’s worked here for over three years. This is the info she filled out when she joined. Says she went to No. 17 High School. Never attended college. With her education background, she couldn’t get a job in traditional journalism—just new media like ours. Her previous job was also writing news content.”

Chen Jing took the file and paused when her eyes landed on No. 17 High School. That school was one of the best in Xiarong City. Students who got in either had top academic scores and aimed for elite universities or came from wealthy families and enrolled in the international division, planning to study abroad by senior year.

For someone from No. 17, not going to college was almost impossible.

She asked, “Did you verify the information in this file?”

The supervisor was taken aback. “That stuff’s just a formality. She filled it in herself. I didn’t have time to verify what school she went to. But she definitely has experience in the field—has published work.”

So the school info might be fake. Chen Jing asked, “Do you have a copy of her ID?”

“Yeah, here.”

Chen Jing sealed it in an evidence bag. “Where’s her workstation?”

The supervisor led her to a neat desk, then couldn’t help asking, “What happened to Li Aijie? Can you give me a hint? I’d like to know what to expect…”

Chen Jing powered on the computer, and her pupils narrowed slightly in the warm yellow glow of the desktop.

The desktop wallpaper showed a man and a woman cheek to cheek—very intimate, but they didn’t look like lovers. The woman was Li Aijie. The man had delicate features, the kind that was very popular among young women.

“Who’s this?” Chen Jing asked.

The supervisor shook his head. “No idea. That wasn’t her wallpaper before. When did she change it?”

“Does Li Aijie have a boyfriend?”

“Not that I know of… Wait!” The supervisor suddenly remembered. “That must be her younger brother. She mentioned having a brother!”

Chen Jing said, “I’ll be taking this computer for now. It’ll be returned after the investigation.”

The supervisor grimaced. “Fine.”

There were two cabinets and four drawers under the desk. Chen Jing crouched down and opened them one by one, eventually discovering a pair of almost-new limited edition sneakers in one cabinet.

“Almost” new—because the soles had some dust, signs of having been tried on.

Chen Jing stood up abruptly, eyes sharp. The shoes were size 38—the same size as the suspicious footprint at the crime scene.

An Xun quickly relayed this major update to Ji Chenjiao. “If Li Aijie is really the killer, then all those times she came to the precinct weren’t for news—she just wanted to monitor how close we were to the truth.”

Ji Chenjiao felt a strange unease, like something was stirring deep in the mud. He knew he had touched on something critical but couldn’t quite grasp it yet.

An Xun sent over the surveillance footage and the photos Chen Jing had taken at Rongxing Media.

Zhang Xuming was killed on the night of April 25th. That afternoon, surveillance captured Li Aijie and Zhang Xuming standing together at a street corner, seemingly in conversation. Li Aijie’s face wasn’t visible, but Zhang Xuming was smiling.

April 24th, 11 a.m.: Zhang Xuming and Li Aijie passed through Wubin Lane Four, about ten meters apart.

April 22nd, midday: Zhang Xuming was eating noodles at a street stall; Li Aijie appeared diagonally across the street.

There were four more such videos—April 20th (twice), April 18th, and April 17th—all indicating that Li Aijie had been stalking Zhang Xuming. Once she had a good grasp of his routine, she formally approached him on the 24th.

Different killers. Ji Chenjiao recalled An Xun’s conclusion.

In Liu Yuchun’s case, the Major Crimes Unit had also combed through surveillance footage around Ganzi Street but failed to identify a suspect—proof the killer had strong anti-detection skills, deliberately avoiding blind spots during tailing and scouting.

Li Aijie also tried to avoid cameras—but she was too immature, and failed.

“Li Aijie… Li Aijie…”

Ji Chenjiao closed his eyes and softly repeated the name. Without light, the image in his memory became clearer.

Then, finally, whatever had been stirring in the mud finally spit out a mouthful of it.

He gasped and quickly opened the photo album on his phone.

Back at Cangshui Middle School, he had taken pictures of the student directory. One student, a year younger than Tang Hongting, had caught his eye—she looked oddly familiar.

Her name was Li Xinbei.

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At that moment, Ling Lie stepped out of the bathroom, his hair dripping wet. He wore only a pair of sleep shorts and had a towel draped over his shoulder. He shuffled over in slippers.

He was supposed to have a separate room, but Ji Chenjiao felt better keeping him nearby—so he moved him into his own room.

The hostel was basic—two beds, a TV stand, and a single chair. Ji Chenjiao didn’t like sitting on the bed while thinking, so he’d claimed the only chair. Ling Lie walked over, leaned casually on the backrest, and the warm, damp, slightly fragrant breath enveloped Ji Chenjiao.

At first, Ji Chenjiao didn’t react—until a droplet of water from Ling Lie’s hair hit his face. Only then did he realize how close Ling Lie was.

“You…” Ji Chenjiao’s eyes landed on Ling Lie’s lean, well-defined abs. He couldn’t take it anymore. “Put some clothes on!”

Ling Lie said, “I haven’t even dried off yet.”

“Then go dry off! Why are you standing here?” Ji Chenjiao grabbed Ling Lie’s towel and wiped his own shoulder where the water had landed.

Ling Lie crooked a finger.

Ji Chenjiao: “?”

“Captain Ji, that’s my towel.”

Ji Chenjiao’s hand paused mid-motion. He gave up on wiping himself and hung the towel back on Ling Lie.

Ling Lie rubbed himself dry while squeezing back next to Ji Chenjiao. “Why the long face? Tell me what’s bothering you, the organization’s here to help.”

That line struck a nerve. Ji Chenjiao looked up from his tablet and stared Ling Lie dead in the eyes. “Organization? Which one?”

Ling Lie replied, “The Tricycle Drivers’ Mutual Aid Organization.”

Ji Chenjiao stood up. He was taller than Ling Lie, and when he rose, he blocked out part of the overhead light. The area around the TV stand was narrow, and with Ji Chenjiao blocking the way, Ling had to back up until his hands braced against the edge of the desk.

Ji Chenjiao took another step forward, forcing Ling Lie to lean even further back.

“Ling Lie.” Ji Chenjiao rarely called him by name, but his tone now was unusually serious. The look in his eyes was cold and focused—like a hawk zeroing in on its prey.

The space between them shrank. Ling Lie could no longer lean away. Their breaths mingled, warm and close. Ji Chenjiao could clearly see his own reflection in Ling Lie’s pupils.

This wasn’t a look Ji Chenjiao showed often. And in this moment, it suddenly felt like he wasn’t the one hunting—he was the one caught, drawn into Ling Lie’s domain.

Ji Chenjiao furrowed his brows slightly.

“Present.” Ling Lie actually smiled.

Ji Chenjiao’s hand rested on the wall. “I’m not joking with you. You’re hiding something. I will find out.”

Ling Lie’s eyes curved into a smile. “Captain Ji, you know curiosity about civilians has its limits. Prying into someone’s private life is called abuse of power.”

Ji Chenjiao leaned in until his voice was practically a breath against Ling Lie’s ear. “I have my ways. Just wait and see.”

Ling Lie didn’t move at first. But just as Ji Chenjiao was about to pull away, Ling Lie suddenly rubbed his damp head against Ji’s cheek.

Ji Chenjiao froze, completely caught off guard.

“Hahaha—” Ling Lie bolted, diving onto the bed and wrapping himself tightly in the blanket, leaving only his pretty face sticking out. “Nya-nya-nya!”

Ji Chenjiao was furious. He stormed over to give him a piece of his mind, but Ling Lie shouted, “I’ve seen her! Her name is Li Aijie!”

Ji paused mid-swing. “You think so too?”

“Between the ages of sixteen and thirty, people can change a lot,” Ling Lie said. “Plus, the ID photo of Li Xinbei is bare-faced. Li Aijie now wears makeup—and makeup is like magic for women. They can turn into whoever they want.”

Ji sat on the bed. “When did you see her?”

Ling Lie replied, “More than just saw her. I followed her.”

Ji: “You—”

“She was writing nonsense!” Ling Lie feigned anger, but his eyes showed no trace of annoyance. “In that 4-2 case, I was the victim, all right? Just walking on the street and boom—trouble falls from the sky. The police haven’t even cleared my name yet…”

Ji Chenjiao: “Cut the sarcasm.”

“Okay, okay,” Ling Lie nodded. “I may be poor, but I hold grudges. Everyone who used me for clout? I’ve tracked them all. That photo you looked at earlier—one hundred percent, that’s Li Aijie.”

Ji Chenjiao thought about it. Li Xinbei and Tang Hongting went to the same high school. Why would she change her name? And the employment data said she studied at No. 17 High School? If she did kill Zhang Xuming, was it revenge for Tang Hongting? But there was no connection between the two in Tang Hongting’s social network.

Seeing Ji Chenjiao getting ready to leave, Ling Lie asked, “Where are you going?”

Ji said, “I can’t sit still. I’m going to Cangshui High.”

Ling Lie: “Wait till tomorrow. You won’t find anyone now.”

Ji Chenjiao realized he was right and returned, then spent the night going through every leak and gossip article published by Rongxing Media. He also stayed in constant contact with Liang Wenxian and Chen Jing, sharing the new theory that Li Aijie might originally be named Li Xinbei.

More cautiously: “Possibly” named Li Xinbei.

Both the city bureau and the Nancheng sub-bureau continued their investigation into Li Aijie. Surprisingly, after verifying her household registration, it turned out Li Aijie had never changed her name. She had always been called Li Aijie since birth. Her registered hometown was Cangshui Town. Her parents had both died. She had a younger brother named Li Aibing.

So Li Aijie was never called Li Xinbei. But she was born in Cangshui Town. Another layer of mystery. Ji Chenjiao wished it were already morning.

Shen Qi extracted Li Aijie’s internet history from her work computer. She had repeatedly looked up maps and traffic info near Wubin Avenue, but her chat records on social media showed nothing unusual for now.

Chen Jing did a detailed comparison of the footprints and the limited-edition sneakers found at her desk. But since the shoes were barely worn, they couldn’t be used to analyze gait and confirm the footprints were hers.

At dawn, both teams in Xiayang City and Cangshui Town had key tasks. Chen Jing went to search Li Aijie’s home with a warrant. Liang Wenxian first went to No. 17 High School and confirmed Li Aijie had never studied there, then began trying to contact her younger brother, Li Aibing.

Ji Chenjiao headed straight to Cangshui High School and once again found Principal Guan.

After days of dealing with the police, Principal Guan was getting increasingly nervous. Ji Chenjiao flipped to the page showing Li Xinbei’s information. “We’ve found that this student’s real name is Li Aijie. Why would your record show her as Li Xinbei?”

Principal Guan was stunned. “What? That’s impossible. Did you make a mistake? Our registry isn’t random.”

Ji Chenjiao asked for the student records from other grades and flipped quickly—until he found Li Aibing.

“Principal Guan, please think carefully—Li Aibing and Li Xinbei are siblings!”

Principal Guan was at a loss. The more she tried to recall, the more confused she got. Ji Chenjiao asked to speak with the teachers who taught the two students.

Li Xinbei’s homeroom teacher recalled, “I remember this—Li Xinbei was called Li Aijie. She changed her name herself.”

Principal Guan was shocked. “Then why would the records say Xinbei?”

The teacher sighed. “Principal Chen helped cover for her.”

Initially, Ji Chenjiao was just as puzzled as Principal Guan. If Li Aijie never changed her legal name, how could her school records say Li Xinbei? The homeroom teacher, one of the few people who knew the truth, finally explained the sad and helpless reason behind the deception.

During the era when Li Aijie and her brother were born, families were only allowed to have one child. Since Li Aijie was a girl, even though her parents loved her, they still wanted a son.

At that time, the Li family lived in a rural village under Cangshui Town. The town was already underdeveloped, and the village was naturally even poorer. The family had registered Li Aijie’s household account first. Two years later, her younger brother Li Aibing was born—but there was no household registration available for him.

Although the Li family loved their son, they weren’t exactly biased toward sons over daughters. The siblings were close in age and grew up together with a strong bond. But the lack of a household account for their son had always been a source of worry.

When Li Aijie started elementary school, their father went to work at a cattle farm in a neighboring city. The whole family moved there, and their mother helped out in markets and restaurants. The four of them lived in a makeshift iron-sheet rental unit.

Li Aijie entered school without issue. Two years later, when it was time for Li Aibing to start, things got difficult. The family needed to obtain a household account for him and pay a fine—only then could he attend school.

Mr. and Mrs. Li gritted their teeth, emptied their savings, and even borrowed money from coworkers to finally secure his registration. Li Aijie was thrilled to take her brother to school, but within half a month, he was being isolated and bullied by his classmates.

At the time, city kids looked down on rural children. While adults knew to be discreet, kids were unrestrained. Li Aibing was small, sat in the front row, wore handmade short-sleeved shirts and knitted sweaters, and cheap shoes that cost five yuan.

Short, poor, from the countryside—these three labels made him the most unpopular kid in class. Later, someone found out that a third-grade girl named Li Aijie was his sister. A bunch of kids swarmed around him asking who she was.

Still naive, Li Aibing smiled and admitted honestly that she was his biological sister.

That caused a total uproar. In the city, families typically had only one child. These kids had been raised on the belief that being an only child was ideal. Families with more than one child were seen as “illegal births” and deserving of scorn.

Malice flourished among the children. They clapped, danced around Li Aibing, and chanted, “Illegal child! No household registration!”

He gradually stopped wanting to attend school. The Li parents showed his registration documents to the teacher, who promised to manage the class. But it was no use. Outside the teacher’s reach, he was still bullied. As bottom-tier laborers in the city, his parents had no energy left to fight. His father could only comfort him: “Don’t listen to what others say.”

Within a year, the father died of overwork. The cattle farm paid just over 10,000 yuan in compensation. The mother had to care for two children alone and started working more jobs. The year Li Aijie finished elementary school, the mother also passed away due to illness.

They couldn’t stay in the city anymore. Li Aijie took her brother back to their hometown. Though life there was more manageable, continuing education meant they had to go back out into the world. So she and her brother returned to Cangshui Town, rented a place with the last of their mother’s money, and got her brother enrolled.

But when it came time to enroll herself, Li Aijie hesitated. As a child forced to mature early, she remembered how her brother was bullied for being an “extra” child. That experience had made him quiet and withdrawn. He was smart and had a bright future—he shouldn’t be ruined like that.

She thought: “Kids in town are simpler, maybe they won’t treat him the same way… but what if they do? What if I’m not his sister?”

Just as she was struggling, Principal Chen appeared. He was already graying and spoke with a kindly smile that put people at ease.

When he asked if something was troubling her, she poured out her worries and asked if he had a solution.

Principal Chen said when Li Aibing started school, she could pretend they weren’t related. People in town were more accepting—some families had more than one child, unlike the city.

Then she thought—what if I changed my name? After all, it was because their names were too similar that people figured it out last time.

But she knew it was hard to officially change one’s name in the household registry, and schools wouldn’t allow a fake change either.

To her surprise, Principal Chen agreed and even helped her plan everything. He told her not to worry.

On the school’s records, she registered under “Li Xinbei”—a name she chose herself, meaning “precious to the heart.” The only people who knew were Principal Chen and her homeroom teachers in middle and high school.

During the high school entrance exam, she used her real name, Li Aijie, on the answer sheets. Since the grading wasn’t handled by local teachers, no one questioned the name.

“That’s how it happened,” the teacher sighed. “Principal Chen didn’t really break any rules. He just used his authority to give her a bit of help. A girl of thirteen or fourteen—if no one helped her, her heart would always be hanging, unable to live properly.”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Did it work? No one ever found out they were siblings?”

“Of course people knew. They even knew they relied on each other. But in our town, no one looked down on that. We’re all from the countryside. And once the name was changed, people got used to it. She was always quiet and got overlooked.”

Being overlooked—that reminded Ji Chenjiao of Tang Hongting. After a moment of thought, he asked, “Why didn’t Li Aijie take the college entrance exam?”

“Few of our students take that exam. Most think it’s pointless if they can’t pass. But Li Aijie…” the teacher thought hard, “Right, she dropped out halfway through her final year.”

It wasn’t uncommon to see students drop out, but to make it to senior year and not graduate—that stood out.

The other teachers remembered too: “She left just after New Year’s. Didn’t even file for withdrawal. Took her brother and vanished.”

Ji Chenjiao pulled up a timeline in his head: Tang Hongting was murdered in August. In the months that followed, the police conducted intense investigations in Cangshui Town. By year’s end, with no progress, the case went cold.

That was exactly when the Li siblings left.

Did they leave to avoid drawing attention during the investigation? Of the current victims, Liu Yuchun had been transferred back to the main city for work in September. Zhang Xuming left town in November—right as the investigation started to ease.

Now, Li Aijie was missing. Was she a victim too? Or… was she the one who killed Zhang Xuming?

Another thought: Li Aijie and Tang Hongting shared traits—pretty, quiet, easily overlooked. Was this some kind of revenge for Tang Hongting?

The teachers couldn’t recall much more about such an unremarkable student. Ji Chenjiao wanted to meet Principal Chen, who had helped her change her name. From their stories, he seemed like someone who truly cared for students and knew how to work within the rules.

But Principal Guan shook her head. “Principal Chen passed away ten years ago.”

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Author’s note:

Captain Ji: He rubbed his head on my face. How should I get revenge next time?