“This police station was moved here after the incident. There wasn’t one in this area before,” the deputy director pointed at the station just an alley away from Hualan Street. “It’s not that we didn’t take action. We couldn’t solve the case, but we’ve tried our best to prevent the same thing from happening again. Look, we maintain these surveillance cameras every year.”

Shen Qi looked up and saw the camera mounted above. As someone who frequently worked with surveillance footage, he recognized most camera models. The one here was a newer model with wide coverage and high resolution. It was clear the Cangshui Town police had taken the matter seriously after the tragedy.

“A new tragedy may have been prevented, but the thought of the murderer still being at large makes me feel uneasy,” the deputy director sighed helplessly and began recounting their response after receiving the emergency call, describing how chaotic the scene had been.

“People around here have little reverence for life or death. They get into brawls that nearly beat people to death. When they heard there was a corpse, everyone rushed over out of curiosity. If this had happened somewhere else, maybe we could’ve preserved more evidence. But not here—nothing could be preserved.”

He stopped walking. “It was the owner of this shop who discovered the body. The cardboard box used to store the corpse was one his family had thrown out.”

Shen Qi looked up and was surprised to see a live-action roleplay (LARP) mystery game store. Twelve years ago, there couldn’t have been such a place.

“I mean the location,” the deputy director explained. “Back then, it was a grilled fish restaurant. It had just opened—newly installed air-conditioning and all. But then a body was found behind its door, inside their box. The owner thought it was unlucky and closed down in less than half a year. The storefront changed hands many times. None of the businesses succeeded until the current owner took over.”

The deputy director disapproved of the LARP game store, believing it was profiting off Tang Hongting’s death. Its most popular theme was “High School Girl Murdered,” drawing many young people to play.

Shen Qi didn’t comment. He turned around and saw a chicken soup noodle shop. What caught his eye was that the sign looked old and weathered, completely out of place compared to the newer stores nearby.

The deputy director spoke with a hint of pride in his hometown, “That’s one of our oldest establishments. Been around for decades. The soup is made from real native chickens, not premade seasoning packets like others use. If you and Captain Ji ever have time, you should try it. The chicken is boiled until tender, then shredded and mixed with millet chili—eaten together with the chicken soup noodles, it’s simply divine.”

Shen Qi was just about to promise to try it when he got a call from Ji Chenjiao. “Brother!”

Ji’s voice sounded a bit urgent. “Are you at Hualan Street yet?”

Shen Qi brightened. “Been here for a while. Brother, from your tone, did you find something?”

“I’m on my way. I didn’t take a close look yesterday. Which shops on that street have been around for more than ten years?” Ji Chenjiao said, “Actually, never mind. Just video call me.”

Shen Qi said, “Perfect timing. The deputy director just recommended a place and told me we should eat there.”

He turned on the camera. “Here—this one. Sister Sun’s Chicken Soup Noodles.”

Ji Chenjiao slammed on the brakes and parked on the roadside, staring at his phone. Despite Shen Qi’s shaky camera movements, he clearly saw the weathered, old signboard.

Chicken soup noodles.

Chicken soup.

Wang Huiqiang had said Liu Yuchun’s chicken soup was delicious—something she’d learned during her time in Cangshui. The old workers at the beef processing plant said she often went to Hualan Street, possibly to help out.

It was very likely that Liu Yuchun had worked—or at least studied—at this chicken soup noodle shop. And the timing matched the period when Tang Hongting was murdered!

Ji Chenjiao felt his blood surge as a fine thread of connection passed through his mind. After all the laborious investigation, it seemed he was finally close to the truth behind Liu Yuchun’s case. And that truth might even be linked to another truth buried for twelve years.

When he saw Ji Chenjiao’s car, Shen Qi hurried over. “I just asked inside. The owner and head chef are out buying chickens in the countryside. The shop’s being run by young people today. They called the owner, and she’s on her way back.”

Ji Chenjiao nodded and strode toward the chicken soup shop.

Inside, the people working were the owner’s child and nephew. Back when the incident occurred, they had been just teens, helping out during summer break. Ji Chenjiao showed them a photo of a younger Liu Yuchun, but both said they’d never seen her.

Ji Chenjiao asked, “You have such a good reputation. Did anyone come to apprentice?”

The two young men grinned a bit proudly and said quite a few did. Some came during the day, others at night. They knew the ones who came during the day well, but those who came at night were told to leave.

Ji Chenjiao understood. Liu Yuchun had to work at the beef plant during the day—she could only come in the evenings. It made sense they didn’t know her.

After half an hour, the owner, Sister Sun, finally returned. She was in her fifties—tough, bold, and loud. As soon as she entered, she shouted, “Which police officer’s looking for me? Had me running and sweating like crazy!”

Most people didn’t like dealing with the police, avoiding them if they could. But Sister Sun was warm and straightforward. She dropped everything and rushed back, meeting Ji Chenjiao with an open, sincere attitude.

While waiting, Ji Chenjiao had heard from the younger staff that Sister Sun had married a drunk and a gambler who beat her. When she wanted a divorce, both her own family and in-laws objected. Her husband kept hitting her until one day, she grabbed a kitchen knife and chased him down. She demanded a divorce. The husband, beaten into submission, finally gave in.

Divorce is rarely the end of a nightmare. Many women, even after leaving legally, are still harassed by ex-husbands. But Sister Sun was strong—and good at fighting. Her ex was so scared of her he never dared show up again.

She later opened a shop through hard work, made good money, and improved life for herself and her child. Her ex, having lost everything gambling, came back asking for money and got chased off with a knife again.

Sister Sun had also helped many abused women. She often told them, “Don’t ever tolerate them. They only bully the weak. Drunks and gamblers—if you go all out, they’ll back off!”

But meddling in others’ business had its costs. A man in town once broke her leg. Ji Chenjiao saw her walking fast into the store, but with a noticeable limp.

“Do you recognize this person?” Ji Chenjiao showed the photo. “Her name is Liu Yuchun. She came from the main city and worked at Niuwang twelve years ago.”

Sister Sun examined it closely. “Isn’t that Chunzi? What happened to her?”

Small towns weren’t as focused on the “Hat Queen” case in the main city. It was clear Sister Sun didn’t know Liu Yuchun was dead.

Ji’s heart tightened. “She worked here as an apprentice?”

Sister Sun laughed heartily and waved it off. “She learned how to make chicken soup from me, but she wasn’t an apprentice. We taught each other—she made delicious cold noodles!”

She started telling the story of their meeting twelve years ago.

It was Liu Yuchun’s first time traveling far, and even though it was just a small town, she was curious about the local life. Her job was monotonous—learning to process beef and resting in the dorm. While coworkers played cards, she didn’t enjoy that. Once settled, she explored the town—markets, shops, schools, bookstores.

Her coworkers warned her not to go to Hualan Street, where all the town’s loafers hung out. But curiosity got the better of her.

Hualan Street wasn’t as terrible as expected, but it wasn’t great either. She found Sister Sun’s shop, tasted the soup, and was hooked—so she asked to learn.

The two women, close in age, bonded over food and life stories. Sister Sun envied her for having a kind husband. Liu Yuchun invited her to visit the city someday.

The chicken soup shop had a bed upstairs. Since Liu Yuchun only came at night and sometimes stayed too late to return safely, Sister Sun offered her the second floor. Liu Yuchun stayed over many times.

Ji Chenjiao immediately asked, “The night Tang Hongting was killed—was Liu Yuchun here?”

Sister Sun paused. “I can’t remember. Are you investigating that girl’s case? No way Chunzi was involved. She didn’t even know her.”

Ji Chenjiao looked at the deputy director, who confirmed, “She wasn’t among those we investigated. I remember clearly.”

Ji Chenjiao continued, “Can you recall roughly when Liu Yuchun last came to help?”

Sister Sun thought hard. “It was summer for sure, but I honestly can’t remember exactly.”

“Let me rephrase. Did you two ever talk about Tang Hongting’s case?”

After a brief silence, Sister Sun suddenly said, “Ah! I remember now. Chunzi came just once after that girl died!”

Ji pressed, “What did she say?”

“She said she was frightened and wouldn’t come again.” Sister Sun added, “Can’t blame her, right? Even I was scared—I closed the shop for a few days. But now that you mention it, I kind of regret something.”

“Regret?”

“She invited me to visit the city, but everything happened so suddenly. We didn’t exchange contact info or anything—and we never met again.”

On the way back to the police station, no one spoke. But the atmosphere inside the car was as tense as a task force meeting.

When they got out, the deputy director finally spoke, voice trembling. “Could the case in the main city really be connected to Tang Hongting? Are we going to finally catch the killer from twelve years ago? I—I…”

“Sir,” Ji Chenjiao patted his shoulder, “We’ll do everything we can to uncover the truth.”

A video conference began with phones and laptops. When Ji Chenjiao and Shen Qi reported they’d found a breakthrough in Cangshui, Xi Wan and the others were instantly energized.

“So, the night Tang Hongting died, Liu Yuchun was likely there. She either witnessed the murder—or… she was involved?” Lian Anxun joined in. “But it’s unlikely Liu Yuchun was the killer. She had no connection to Tang Hongting, and she didn’t seem like someone who’d do that.”

Shen Qi added, “She was probably a witness. You can see the street from the second floor of the chicken soup shop.”

“But the whole city was focused on that case. Why didn’t she go to the police? Not just then—even later, even right up to her own death, she never told anyone.” Liang Wenxuan said, “That doesn’t make sense.”

Xi Wan objected, “I think it’s understandable. Liu Yuchun is introverted—when she witnessed something like that, of course she’d be scared. If she told the police, she’d have to testify in court, and then she’d be exposed. With only one victim, it’s basically impossible to get a death sentence these days. The killer would probably just get life imprisonment, and with sentence reductions, what if they got out and came after her?”

Liang Wenxian said, “You have a point, but you’re overlooking one thing. In Liu Yuchun’s mind, maybe she thought murder should mean the death penalty. She might not understand the nuances of sentencing.”

Xi Wan replied, “Now you’re just arguing with me.”

Liang Wenxian chuckled. “Just a normal discussion, right, Captain?”

Ji Chenjiao had remained silent until now, leaning back in his chair with his fingers pressed together. “If we assume the two cases are indeed connected, then it’s more likely Liu Yuchun witnessed the crime than participated in it. But I was just thinking—if Liu Yuchun was truly a complete outsider, and the killer knew she existed, why wait twelve years to silence her?”

The offices of both the local station and the Major Crimes Unit fell silent.

Shen Qi spoke up after a long pause. “Maybe the killer only recently found out about Liu Yuchun?”

Ji Chenjiao shook his head. “It’s like any case—the earlier it’s investigated, the easier it is to solve. The longer it drags on, the harder it gets. The odds of the killer discovering a witness twelve years later? Too low.”

Liang Wenxian agreed. “And if there hadn’t been any incidents in the past twelve years, suddenly killing Liu Yuchun now would only make the killer more likely to be exposed, right?”

Shen Qi clutched his head. “This is…”

“You guys think Liu Yuchun was the killer?” An Xun asked. “Someone took revenge for Tang Hongting?”

Ji Chenjiao didn’t give a direct conclusion, only said, “I remember the original case file mentioned the possibility of more than one perpetrator.”

Liang Wenxian cleared his throat. “Let me summarize. If we assume the two cases are connected, we have several possibilities.”

“One: Liu Yuchun witnessed Tang Hongting’s murder and was silenced twelve years later.”

“Two: Liu Yuchun was the killer, and someone took revenge on her twelve years later.”

“Three: Liu Yuchun participated in the murder, but whether she was the actual killer is unclear. She was killed in an internal clean-up?”

Shen Qi sucked in a breath. “I’m reminded of the Xiayang Road case. Weren’t Gan Pengfei and Xin Yiping aiming to eliminate insiders?”

An Xun shuddered. “Could this really be connected to Ji Ke? Was Liu Yuchun one of their ‘surveillance targets’ too?”

The link between the two cases seemed to grow stronger. Ji Chenjiao stood up and straightened his shirt. “There may be other possibilities. Let’s start by investigating Tang Hongting. I’ll take a trip to Cangshui High School.”

Among the top high schools in Xiarong City, many students got into prestigious universities every year. But in the nearby rural town of Cangshui—about 200 kilometers away—graduating from high school was already considered a significant achievement. Most students either went to work in the city or stayed in town to run small businesses. University? Even if someone got in, it was usually to a second-tier or private college.

That’s not to say Cangshui Town had no bright or hardworking students. But the city’s top schools aggressively recruited talent. Stronger students often transferred after the high school entrance exams. Those with slightly lower scores, if their families had money, would still send them to the city—even tightening their belts to pay the sponsorship fees.

Over time, the remaining student body at Cangshui High’s senior division became rather telling.

When Ji Chenjiao arrived, it was class time, but students were still drifting out the gate. Some seemed like they were off to loiter, others looked like they were going to fight. The security guard didn’t even try to stop them—clearly used to it.

Inside the campus, many girls gathered in groups, snacking and gossiping.

The school buildings were old—clearly hadn’t been repainted or renovated in at least a decade. Ji Chenjiao wondered if the school looked the same twelve years ago.

Tang Hongting must have been lonely here—an outcast. Everyone else just drifted through their days, and academics were the last priority. Only she treated studying as a way to change her fate. When she failed once, she came back to try again.

Instead of going straight to school officials, Ji Chenjiao wandered the campus and classrooms to get a feel for the place.

According to records and media reports, Tang Hongting was said to be withdrawn, obsessed with grades, and not a good person. There were a few girls who got along with her, but it seemed more like casual acquaintances—talking a bit more, occasionally walking home together, visiting her house once or twice.

No one truly knew what went on in her heart during those three years of high school and the one month of repeating. She must’ve had unshakeable determination—what fueled it was her desire to leave the town and change her life.

But she was still just a teenage girl. Did she have any other source of emotional support?

Time is the greatest barrier—and also the most ruthless “sweeper,” wiping away traces of the past until there’s nothing left for future seekers to uncover.

Suddenly, Ji Chenjiao was struck with a sense of useless regret—if only the Major Crimes Unit had arrived at the scene twelve years ago, if only they’d had today’s forensic technology, would the killer have been caught long ago?

The thought was meaningless, and Ji Chenjiao knew it. But that’s the difference between people and machines—even the most rational person is influenced by emotion.

Shen Qi was also wandering the campus and saw Ji Chenjiao lost in thought. He shouted, “Brother, what are you doing?”

Ji Chenjiao snapped out of it and shook his head. “Have you contacted the school?”

“I was waiting for you. What if you wanted to go undercover?”

Ji Chenjiao: “Be serious.”

The vice principal, surnamed Guan, was a woman in her fifties. Upon hearing the police’s purpose, she sighed, “I used to be Tang Hongting’s English teacher. I’m about to retire, and this case still isn’t solved.”

Originally, Ji Chenjiao had hoped to reach the teachers through Vice Principal Guan. Now that she’d taught Tang Hongting herself, naturally they needed to talk.

“I’ve seen Tang Hongting’s transcripts—English was her strength,” said Ji Chenjiao.

Vice Principal Guan smiled. “Yes, she was outstanding at English from the start. You might not know this, but she actually scored high enough on the high school entrance exam to get into the city’s top schools, and her English was particularly good. She could’ve gone to No.1 or No.2 High School. But she stayed here for her grandparents. If she had gone to the city, with those teachers, she could’ve definitely gotten into a top university. If she hadn’t repeated the year, none of this would’ve happened.”

Ji Chenjiao didn’t interrupt, though Shen Qi had already told him this before—it had also been in media reports. But after news came out about Tang Hongting arguing with her grandmother, public opinion had flipped. People called her unfilial, said she had a dark personality. Even her decision to stay for her grandmother was interpreted as short-sighted or a failed attempt at a redemption arc.

But what kind of “redemption” does a dead girl even need?

Vice Principal Guan clearly held special feelings for her former student. The regret in her voice grew more pronounced. “I taught her for three years. I knew she didn’t fit in, but that’s not a bad thing. Our school doesn’t produce top university students. She was disciplined and had clear goals—that’s a good thing.”

“And though she was a bit withdrawn, she didn’t get into conflicts. If anything happened, she’d avoid it. Some boys here hung around with shady people from outside, but even they didn’t mess with her—she was too quiet.”

This surprised Ji Chenjiao. The deputy station chief and many other officers believed the killer was likely among the local thugs—just no proof. But Vice Principal Guan thought Tang Hongting had no contact with that world at all.

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Did you have any suspicions back then about who the killer might be?”

Vice Principal Guan hesitated. “I had no clue. But I don’t think it was anyone from our school. Sure, our students were poorly disciplined, but killing someone? That’s another level. That Hualan Street place was chaotic—maybe it was a junkie going through withdrawal. Who knows where he’s ended up now.”

The theory that the killer was a vagrant addict had been floated back then, too. But Ji Chenjiao sensed why Vice Principal Guan was so insistent that the killer wasn’t from the school—she didn’t want the killer to be from her school.

Everyone tends to stand on their own side, intentionally or not. Even now, she had reservations—so what about twelve years ago? How many more details were buried back then for similar reasons?

They may seem like tiny, trivial things—but perhaps it was those specks of dust that had buried the truth all along.

Ji Chenjiao kept talking with Vice Principal Guan, asking if student records from the years before and after Tang Hongting were still available. She quickly brought them out—including the final graduation photo and enrollment photo.

In the enrollment photo, sixteen-year-old Tang Hongting looked expressionless, unsmiling. In the graduation photo at eighteen, she smiled brightly like the others around her.

That smile might not have been something she forced just for the photo.

The police investigation records marked three girls as “friends,” and Ji Chenjiao found all of them in the photos and documents. He asked Principal Guan about their current whereabouts. Pointing at one of them, named Mi Wei, Principal Guan said, “I only know that she’s still in town. She opened a bookstore on the street across from the school, mainly serving students.”

Finding the other two girls wouldn’t be difficult either. Ji Chenjiao kept flipping through the photos. He wasn’t deliberately trying to memorize the information, nor was he specifically looking for anyone. As he browsed, he mentally sorted through the known clues while chatting with Principal Guan.

“This is the principal at the time, right?” Ji Chenjiao pointed at the middle-aged man at the center of every graduation photo. “Retired now?”

Principal Guan paused briefly. “Yes, Principal Chen was a good man. He left our school many years ago.”

Suddenly, Ji Chenjiao’s hand froze, his gaze landing on one of the enrollment photos. In the picture was a sixteen-year-old girl with a single ponytail and a thin face. She wasn’t pretty, but her features were delicate. The name beneath the photo read: Li Xinbei.

He had never heard the name before, but somehow, her features looked vaguely familiar.