Ji Xing suddenly turned his head. “You?!”

Ji Chenjiao said casually, “Ji Xing, you’ve come to Feiyun County too?”

Ji Xing wanted to leave, but Ji Chenjiao blocked his way. Turning back, he saw that the only way upstairs was now occupied—Ling Lie stood there with his hair in a complete mess from sleep, yawning and lazily patting his mouth. Ji Xing’s face twisted in fury and fear. “Why won’t you people leave me alone?!”

“What are you talking about?” Ji Chenjiao raised his brow. “You’ve heard about the ‘Hat Queen’ case, haven’t you? I’m here to investigate the case. What does that have to do with you?”

Ji Xing’s cheeks flushed red as he desperately tried to discern if Ji Chenjiao was telling the truth. Of course he knew about the “Hat Queen” case—it had caused a huge stir, even more so than the Xiayang Road case.

But what did it have to do with Feiyun County?

“You don’t believe me?” Ji Chenjiao asked again.

Ji Xing avoided eye contact and rushed the receptionist, urging them to return his deposit. “No, it has nothing to do with me.”

“Mhm, I heard Feiyun County’s Wuming Mountain is quite spiritual. If you confess your sins there, you’ll be forgiven.”

Ji Xing nearly dropped his phone. The receptionist chimed in suddenly, “It’s true, very spiritual. This young man even asked me for directions to the mountain yesterday.”

Ji Chenjiao clearly heard Ji Xing’s sharp intake of breath. “You went up the mountain too? To confess what?”

“I…” Ji Xing grabbed his deposit and bolted toward the door.

Only then did Ling Lie come up to Ji Chenjiao’s side. “You’re just letting him go?”

Ji Chenjiao stared at Ling Lie’s messy hair and couldn’t resist smoothing it down.

Ling Lie muttered, “And I got up so early for this.”

Ji Chenjiao chuckled. “Got up just to watch the show?”

Ling Lie raised his hands in a cheering pose. “Fight! Fight!”

“Fight your head!”

Just because Ji Chenjiao let Ji Xing go didn’t mean he was off the hook. From this moment on, everything Ji Xing did would be under the eyes of the police.

After breakfast, the Major Crimes Unit set off with Qiang Chunliu back to the main city. Ling Lie hitched a ride and then disappeared once they arrived.

Although Ji Chenjiao wasn’t at headquarters yesterday, the investigation into Chunliu’s waist drum troupe had continued. The members and family who verbally abused Liu Yuchun had been calmed down by Ling Lie and then interviewed.

Once back, Ji Chenjiao asked Liang Wenxian for the interview records. Some of the people echoed Qiang Chunliu’s sentiments. They didn’t respect Liu Yuchun, thought she wasn’t that impressive, and resented the attention she got. Out of jealousy and dissatisfaction, they spoke cruelly to her.

This kind of hatred, at first, didn’t seem like much. Saying a few mean things behind someone’s back wasn’t unusual. But once everyone joined in, emotions escalated. Suddenly it became a fierce, collective hatred—like something had to be done.

Ji Chenjiao set down the report and leaned back, pressing his fingers to his brow. The back-and-forth travel had taken a toll, and after barely sleeping the night before, his mind was still sharp but his body felt weighed down, like he was dragging lead.

“Finished reading?” Liang Wenxian walked over, pulling out the chair across from Ji Chenjiao and sitting down. “When I met with them yesterday, I felt like it was classic group mentality. They fueled each other’s fire. Add in a very emotional team leader, and attacking the ‘Hat Queen’ was inevitable. But if we’re talking about motive for murder, it doesn’t go that far.”

“I plan to change directions,” Ji Chenjiao said, voicing the thought he’d mulled over repeatedly. “The killer might be deliberately misleading us—using the ‘Hat Queen’ as a cover for the real motive. Because if we discovered the true motive, it might be easy to identify them.”

Liang Wenxian folded his arms and thought for a moment. “Makes sense—otherwise it’s just unnecessary complication.”

“There might be more hidden on Liu Yuchun’s side, clues we missed because we were so focused on the obvious. I want to re-examine her.”

“Alright, I’ll fully support it.”

Reinvestigating Liu Yuchun wouldn’t be easy. The trouble was that the previous profile had been built around motive, which narrowed the field. Now, without knowing the motive, the police would need to cast as wide a net as possible—and they had no idea what they might catch.

Liu Yuchun’s parents were already deceased. She had no other relatives in Xiarong City, and her social circle was small. After retirement, she mainly interacted with Zhou Qingxia’s group. Before retirement, her coworkers at the parts factory all said she was well-behaved and diligent. She was considered attractive when she was young, which drew gossip, but as she aged—without flair or social charm—she faded into the background as younger women joined.

No leads there either.

Ji Chenjiao decided to visit Liu Yuchun’s husband, Wang Huiqiang, again. Though their marriage was nominal at best, they’d still lived together for decades—there might be a breakthrough.

After Liu Yuchun’s death, Wang Huiqiang had been shuttling between the county and the city for the investigation. It was exhausting, so he brought his mother to live on Ganzi Street. But his mother was frightened, so he had to temporarily place her in a nursing home.

When Ji Chenjiao arrived, Wang Huiqiang was simmering chicken soup to bring to his mother.

Seeing Ji Chenjiao, he looked nervous. “Did you catch the killer yet?”

The rich aroma of chicken soup filled the house. Ji Chenjiao had seen plenty of heartless sons in his career. Wang Huiqiang stood out as an exception.

So he casually started with the old lady. “You’re close to your mother, right? How old is she now?”

Wang Huiqiang relaxed a little. “Eighty-three. Her memory’s getting worse. I don’t know how much longer I can care for her.”

Ji Chenjiao knew Wang’s mother had Alzheimer’s—a progressive, irreversible condition.

“This place is big. If Wang Xiaowen wants to move out, you could bring your mom here too. Save you the back-and-forth.”

Wang Huiqiang wiped his hands on his apron, looking regretful.

“I heard your mother is just used to living in the county and didn’t want to move to the city?”

Wang Huiqiang seemed to want to say something but hesitated. Ji Chenjiao didn’t push—he kept the tone light. “Elderly folks are like that. My parents won’t come live with me either.”

“It’s not that.” Wang Huiqiang shook his head. “My mom was actually willing. It was Yuchun who refused.”

Ji Chenjiao raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Now that the dam had broken, the bubbling sound of the soup filled the silence as Wang Huiqiang explained. His mother had been diagnosed five years ago, though early on she could still care for herself with regular treatment.

Three years ago, her condition worsened. Though mostly lucid, she couldn’t live alone anymore and needed constant care.

Liu Yuchun had always been the virtuous type, putting family first. Wang Huiqiang had gotten used to her taking care of everything, so he thought it was natural to bring his mother home. But when he brought it up, Liu Yuchun flatly refused.

“I’ve spent my whole life revolving around you and Xiaowen. Now that I’m retired, I still can’t have my own life? I have to take care of your mother too? She has Alzheimer’s—it’s a disease that drains people! I can’t take it!”

They had a huge argument. Wang Huiqiang couldn’t understand her sudden selfishness. He blamed her change on hanging around Zhou Qingxia’s crowd.

He wasn’t good at arguing. Liu Yuchun’s abrupt assertiveness overwhelmed him. When his mother asked how it went, he couldn’t explain. She immediately understood—her daughter-in-law didn’t want her.

“I don’t want to go to the city,” his mother said, trying to ease his guilt and spare Yuchun. “I’m fine here. The city air is bad, I’m not used to it. Just come visit when you can.”

In the end, Wang Huiqiang decided to stay in the county. The parts factory had relocated there ten years ago, with both city and county branches. Wang Huiqiang transferred to the new site to take care of his mom.

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Yuchun never transferred to the new factory?”

“No. The factory let older women stay put if they didn’t want to move. New hires all go to the new site.”

Ji Chenjiao continued, “Besides your mother, did you and Liu Yuchun have other conflicts?”

Wang Huiqiang looked startled. “No. We were introduced by a workshop supervisor. Both quiet types. Officer Ji, did you find something?”

“No, just trying to learn more about her,” Ji Chenjiao said. “Back then, factory leaders usually arranged marriages, right?”

Wang nodded. “Not like you young people who choose yourselves. We just got the license if we got along. Love wasn’t really a thing.”

“After marriage, did Yuchun keep in touch with her family?”

“She didn’t have any. Came from the countryside. After vocational school, she joined the factory.”

“I saw her birthplace was Yiquan Village. You ever visit?”

“She hasn’t lived there in ages. Her parents died early. I think… she moved to the city at thirteen with someone from the same hometown.”

Then Wang went to the kitchen to check the soup. Ji Chenjiao quickly reviewed the facts. The team had previously investigated Liu Yuchun’s early life, but given the time that had passed, all they found was that she lived in Yiquan Village—quiet, isolated, no major crimes in decades. Her parents died of illness. She was an orphan.

When Wang Huiqiang returned, he suddenly sighed, “Yuchun’s chicken soup always tasted better. I can’t get it right.”

Ji Chenjiao said casually, “She was the cook at home, right?”

“I did some too. But back then, it was just me and Xiaowen when she wasn’t around. Xiaowen was still young—you can’t make a kid cook.” Wang Huiqiang reminisced, “I’m handy with tools, but I suck at cooking. Yuchun would watch someone do it once and get it. She learned this chicken soup somewhere outside…”

Ji Chenjiao: “Outside? When was she away?”

The team’s records showed Liu Yuchun had lived continuously in Xiarong City after marriage.

Wang Huiqiang looked startled. “Did I say something wrong?”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Where did she learn the chicken soup?”

“Cangsui Town. She stayed there for a while.”

Ji Chenjiao’s tone grew tense. “How long? Which year? Why was she there?”

Wang Huiqiang fidgeted nervously. “About a dozen years ago? I think twelve. The factory sent her—wanted to set up a branch there, so they sent a few people over.”

Ji Chenjiao had never heard of this matter before, and the preliminary investigation hadn’t reached this level either.

Wang Huiqiang added, “It never got built. Everyone came back. Yuchun stayed for, at most, three months.”

A new lead meant new possibilities. Ji Chenjiao immediately pressed for more details.

Wang Huiqiang had to seriously recall, and after rummaging through some yellowed photo albums and notebooks, he confirmed that Liu Yuchun had been transferred to Cangshui Town in early June twelve years ago and came back in late August.

At the time, the parts factory had not yet decided where to build its new plant. After visiting several major industrial cities across the country, the leadership decided they could gradually shift production to townships. But they couldn’t decide which ones. So they planned to first transfer some workers and have them spread out to various townships—not to work directly, but to engage with local small factories—intending to recall them after a year or so for a comprehensive evaluation.

The task seemed easy, but for workers used to living in the city, few were willing to go to the countryside. There weren’t enough volunteers, and some of the target townships were scrapped altogether.

Liu Yuchun, however, proactively applied, saying she wanted to try a different environment. The factory was, of course, pleased. They had even considered holding a grand send-off, but since so few workers were willing to transfer, the leadership felt embarrassed, so Liu Yuchun’s departure caused no waves and few remembered it afterward.

Upon arriving in Cangshui Town, Liu Yuchun was assigned to a beef processing plant for training. The couple met once a week. Liu Yuchun rarely came back; usually, it was Wang Huiqiang who brought large bags to visit her.

Speaking of those “long-distance relationship” days, Wang Huiqiang’s face showed a look of happiness for the first time.

“At that time, Yuchun and I had been married for over ten, maybe twenty years. Though we never argued, our relationship wasn’t like that of a loving couple. It was more like roommates getting by. We had affection, sure, but love… I don’t know.”

Talking about love, Wang Huiqiang looked awkward—probably not used to discussing such things.

“Maybe she felt the same. That’s why she asked for the transfer. But it actually became a chance for us to improve. I don’t know how it happened—when she was home, I didn’t feel much. But once she went to the countryside, I missed her terribly.”

“Every week I went to see her, and I was really happy. I did her laundry, ate the food she cooked, and she smiled at me. I think she was happy I visited. Living apart, we actually started to feel like husband and wife again.”

Wang Huiqiang sighed, “The factory originally planned to keep her there for a year, but they called her back after just three months. Once we started living together again, life went back to the way it was before.”

Cangshui Town was under the jurisdiction of Xiarong City. Ji Chenjiao had recently heard of the town—Ji Ke had been there on a business trip.

Just a coincidence?

“Why was she called back after only three months?” Ji Chenjiao asked.

“The leadership thought it was a waste of time,” Wang Huiqiang said. “Old factories like ours are like that—leadership often makes rash decisions. The plan nearly got scrapped in the beginning because no one wanted to transfer. When someone finally volunteered, they barely kept it going. After three months, they got tired of it. Instead, they decided to respond to government policy and focus on choosing one county for a new plant.”

Ji Chenjiao immediately understood why the earlier investigation missed this. The factory kept no records, lower-level leaders wouldn’t speak, workers didn’t care, and those who should have remembered had long forgotten. Liu Yuchun had such a weak presence—one more or one less made no difference. The only one who remembered her time in Cangshui Town was her not-so-affectionate husband.

Ji Chenjiao asked again, “Did she ever tell you about her life in Cangshui Town?”

“Sure, we talked a lot back then.” Wang Huiqiang recalled, “The work at the processing plant was tough, but the workers were kind to her. They called her ‘sister.’ They knew she was from the parts factory and wanted to build connections—maybe even send their kids to the city…”

Wang Huiqiang mentioned whatever came to mind—just mundane daily matters. Ji Chenjiao didn’t pick up any special clues. But that didn’t matter. Having Cangshui Town as a lead was already a gain for the day; the major crimes team would handle the rest.

Wang Huiqiang checked the time and looked a bit hesitant—he needed to deliver chicken soup to his mother.

Ji Chenjiao didn’t stop him. As he watched Wang Huiqiang pack up, they chatted some more. Feeling grateful, Wang Huiqiang opened up even more, mentioning that once he planned to visit Cangshui Town, but Liu Yuchun suddenly called to say the plant had activities that week and told him to come the next.

“She never joined activities here, so I thought it was odd—but I didn’t ask. I just visited the following week.”

The nursing home was located between Ganzi Street and the city bureau—it wasn’t out of the way, so Ji Chenjiao gave Wang Huiqiang a lift. Wang Huiqiang kept thanking him, and just as the car window was rising, he suddenly called out, as if summoning great courage, “Officer Ji, I don’t know why Yuchun was killed, but I know my daughter is innocent. We’re just ordinary folks. We’d never have the guts for anything like that.”

Back at the bureau, Ji Chenjiao was just about to search the system for any major cases in Cangshui Town in the past decade when he heard quick footsteps in the hallway. They screeched to a halt outside the door, complete with a drift—it had to be Shen Qi.

“Brother! That task you gave me about tracking Ji Ke’s travel destinations—I found something!”

Ji Chenjiao: “Hmm?”

“Most places Ji Ke visited had unsolved ‘cold cases,’ but the one that drew the most public attention at the time was in Cangshui Town!”

Ji Chenjiao’s gaze instantly sharpened. “What case?”

Shen Qi immediately shoved a tablet into Ji’s hands. “This one! The Tang Hongting Night Market Case!”

Twelve years ago, a sensational murder occurred in Cangshui Town. Tang Hongting, a nineteen-year-old student who had failed the college entrance exam and planned to repeat the year, was found murdered—her body dumped in the town’s busiest street.

Her mother had died of illness when she was in elementary school, and her father had died in a coal mine accident. She lived with her grandmother. Despite her situation, she had good grades. Though she missed her dream university by just a few points, she decided to retake the exam.

Repeating wasn’t free, and for her poor family, tuition was a heavy burden. Cangshui High School started classes for 12th graders on August 1, but the workload was lighter until the formal start in September. So Tang Hongting planned to study while working part-time for a month—classes by day, singing at the town’s only bar street by night.

Her body was found inside a cardboard box on that street, with three sharp-force injuries. Judging from the force and angle, there was more than one perpetrator.

But back then, Cangshui Town had very little surveillance. The bar street was notoriously chaotic and had no cameras. Onlookers had destroyed any remaining crime traces at the scene.

At first, the local police didn’t report the case to the city level, thinking they could handle it. They spent half a month investigating, but aside from confirming multiple perpetrators, they found nothing.

By the time the district and city bureaus took over, the golden window for investigation had passed. Due to lack of clues and limited technology, the case ultimately went cold.

Ji Chenjiao looked at the date of the crime—August 20. Liu Yuchun was in Cangshui Town at the time!

Wang Huiqiang had mentioned that although Liu Yuchun usually didn’t join work events, there was one week when the beef processing plant had activities, so she asked him not to visit.

Ji immediately called Wang Huiqiang, but he couldn’t recall the exact timing. “I really don’t remember. Just that it was summer. Very hot.”

Summer in Xiarong starts as early as May 1 and can last until November. So Wang Huiqiang’s answer proved nothing.

Ji Chenjiao set down the phone and tablet, his expression grave, brows tightly furrowed.

Before today, he hadn’t linked Liu Yixiang (a.k.a. the fake Huang Xuntong), Ji Ke, and Liu Yuchun together. But now, Cangshui Town seemed like a chaotic vortex pulling every thread into itself.

Ji Ke was a criminal-minded “observer” who enjoyed “collecting evil” during his business trips. With his interference, three murders from over a decade ago remained unsolved until now, their killers still at large.

The major crimes team had followed this “collecting evil” theory, checking every place Ji Ke had visited, tracking local homicides and notable incidents—this was how they found the Tang Hongting case.

The case timing matched Liu Yuchun’s transfer to Cangshui Town. Yet traditional investigation methods hadn’t identified her as a suspect.

Shen Qi was stunned as Ji Chenjiao dialed the phone. “Brother, weren’t we investigating Ji Ke? How did Liu Yuchun get involved?”

Ji Chenjiao couldn’t untangle it either. Maybe there was no connection at all—maybe it was just because he had learned Liu Yuchun had been to Cangshui Town that day, and now he was automatically linking her to everything about it.

“I don’t know,” Ji said plainly.

Shen Qi was even more confused—his idol, his big brother, actually said “I don’t know”?

Xiao Shen’s faith in strong men wavered just a bit.

Liang Wenxian had also finished reading the Tang Hongting case file. “Xiao Shen, when did Ji Ke go to Cangshui Town?”

Shen Qi: “According to his work records—eighteen years ago, in May.”

Liang Wenxian: “This case happened twelve years ago. So there’s a six-year gap. The case had major impact, and the killer was never caught—but if you insist it’s linked to Ji Ke, it feels far-fetched.”

Shen Qi scratched his head, “You told me to investigate, so I did… I guess it is kind of a stretch?”

But Ji Chenjiao said, “What if Ji Ke went to Cangshui Town again—just not on business?”

Shen Qi replied, “Then… we can’t track that.” No matter how skilled a cyber expert is, they still need data. Without data, there’s nothing to check.

“Don’t worry. At least we found Cangshui Town,” Liang Wenxian said with his signature calm. “Put Ji Ke aside for now. Liu Yuchun was in Cangshui when the murder happened.”

Ji regained his clarity. “I’ll go to Cangshui Town tomorrow. Liang Wenxian, you handle the Ji Ke tracking…”

“Leave it to me.”

Just off work, Ji Chenjiao got a call from Zhou Yun, who’d seen the news about all the recent cases in Xiarong City and called to check on his health.

Ji Chenjiao had always had a good relationship with his adoptive parents. Unable to have children of their own, they had poured all their love into raising him—and he was deeply grateful to them.

But perhaps because his adoptive parents were rational and restrained people, there was also a detached and emotionally reserved side to his own nature. As a result, they were not the kind of family that relied heavily on each other or shared everything without reservation.

They were more like partners running a household together, calling each other two or three times a month to exchange polite updates—”How’s work?” “Are you feeling well?” “What did you eat?” They maintained a seemingly distant but mutually comfortable balance with courtesy and respect.

“You’re out there protecting the people—you have to take care of yourself too,” said Zhou Yun. “I picked some tomatoes the other day and sent them to your community delivery station. They should have arrived today. Make some soup for yourself—don’t let yourself get run-down…”

Ji Chenjiao remembered how Ling Lie had made tomato bisque last time. It hadn’t looked too complicated, so he agreed: “I’ll go buy some shrimp now and make soup tonight.”

Zhou Yun was quite pleased. The two chatted a bit more before hanging up.

The tomatoes had been delivered to the family compound of the city bureau—Zhou Yun didn’t know that Ji Chenjiao had already moved back into his small apartment. He went to the supermarket and, finding the process of catching shrimp troublesome, was about to settle for a package of frozen shrimp when the enthusiastic vendor launched into a passionate pitch about how live shrimp were better—for boosting kidney and yang energy. Ji Chenjiao hesitated for a moment, and a bag of squirming shrimp was suddenly tossed into his cart.

Well, all right then.

After that, he grabbed two ears of corn and a bag of mixed mushrooms. When he went to the delivery station to pick up the tomatoes, the old man there said, “I saw it was fresh produce—not something that keeps well—so I went ahead and delivered it upstairs to your unit!”

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

The old folks in the neighborhood were just too warm-hearted. Ling Lie was especially popular with the elderly. Ji Chenjiao wanted to say, “Those tomatoes were for me!”

This time, he didn’t knock. He used his key to go in. The apartment was quiet and tidy—Ling Lie wasn’t home. The tomatoes had all been neatly placed in the fridge.

Originally, Ji Chenjiao had planned to take a few back to his own place to make soup, but after a long day of running around—and humbling himself to go grocery shopping—he was starving. If Ling Lie could whip up a pot of soup in fifteen minutes, so could he.

But some things that look simple only reveal their difficulty when you actually try doing them. Ji Chenjiao—elite captain of the Major Crimes Unit, the top officer in a special joint task force—ended up totally botching his first attempt at making tomato corn soup.

He ran into trouble at the shrimp-prepping stage.

He’d seen Ling Lie slice open the shrimp to remove the veins before searing them to release shrimp oil. His own knife skills, however, were subpar. After a long struggle, he sliced open his thumb instead of the shrimp. That immediately killed his motivation. He started cutting corners on everything else—dumped the corn, tomatoes, and mushrooms into the pot all at once and boiled it all together.

The first time he turned off the heat, the corn was still raw. The second time, the corn was done—but the shrimp had turned into rubber. The overall flavor was terrible, completely lacking the “richness” of a proper tomato bisque.

He wondered if the missing ingredient was tomato paste. But Ling Lie hadn’t used any. Still, there was a bottle in the kitchen—left over from some low-fat cooking sauce bundle. Ji Chenjiao dumped in half the bottle. The soup was thick, yes, but one sip and all he could taste were artificial additives.

After half an hour of effort, this was the result. He ate only the corn, which was barely acceptable, and threw the rest out.

At that moment, the front door opened. Ji Chenjiao looked around at the chaos in the kitchen and suddenly felt a little guilty.

Ling Lie stood in the doorway. “Woooow—”

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

“A quick interview,” Ling Lie said, miming a microphone. “Captain Ji, would you mind explaining how you managed to turn my kitchen into this disaster zone? When I left this morning, it was as spotless as a dissection table freshly scrubbed by a forensic tech!”

__

Author’s note:

Captain Ji feeling guilty.jpg