The deputy team leader, Zhang Feng, was clearly displeased by the involvement of the Major Crimes Unit. “It’s not like we can’t send our own people to Cangshui Town. Why should we rely on others?”

Chen Jing responded calmly, “We’re relying on our fellow comrades.”

Zhang Feng’s face darkened. “You—”

“If the two cases are related, then relevant information should be shared. If this delays the investigation, can you take responsibility for that?” Chen Jing, a woman who had risen to leadership in a male-dominated field, didn’t lack presence. She tapped the documents in her hand against Zhang Feng’s shoulder. “Make good use of your time and get a clear timeline of Zhang Xuming’s whereabouts for the past six months.”

Zhang Feng took the files, held back his frustration, and nodded before leaving.

While the case in Nancheng District didn’t cause the same stir as Liu Yuchun’s, the media’s keen sense for news quickly caught on. With nothing new to dig up on the “Hat Queen” case, reporters flocked to Wubin Avenue.

At Rongxing Media, the editor-in-chief walked out of her private office and glanced around. “Where’s Li Aijie? No sign of her, and her article’s not in either. Do you know what time it is?”

Li Aijie’s desk was completely empty. A colleague seated diagonally across from her, who had just turned in an article and was ready to clock out, said, “Haven’t seen her today. She doesn’t hang around the office much anyway. Something happened in Nancheng today—maybe she went to the scene?”

The editor-in-chief growled, “She’d better be at the scene! Not answering calls or replying to messages. She thinks she can coast after one viral article?”

The colleague turned around and quietly stuck out her tongue. “What does she expect with that salary—people to work themselves to death?”

The editor didn’t hear and went back into her office grumbling. She tried calling Li Aijie again, but still got no answer.

The next day, investigations began in both Xiarong City and Cangshui Town.

Although Zhang Xuming’s phone was never recovered, a damaged old phone was found in his rental. Digital forensics extracted his social media accounts from it and discovered he had previously worked at four real estate agencies in the North District. Before that, he delivered packages and food.

Chen Jing visited “Wenxin Real Estate” in the North District. As soon as she mentioned Zhang Xuming’s name, the staff’s expressions shifted dramatically, clearly bursting with gossip but wary of getting into trouble.

Chen Jing went straight to the manager.

The manager quickly shooed the others back to work and brought her a paper cup of cold water. “Let’s talk inside.”

“Did Zhang Xuming do something again?” the manager asked, worried, clearly fearing any blowback on the business.

“Did he leave because of something he did?” Chen Jing countered.

The manager nodded. “Sort of.”

“What was it?”

“He had sticky fingers—liked to take little things from the company and his coworkers.”

Chen Jing said, “That’s all?” She’d already seen Zhang Xuming pocket snacks and water from Aiwu’s security footage. But she sensed there had to be more to his departure.

The manager hesitated. “Can I ask… what did he do? I’m not trying to hide anything. But if he went off the rails, we really don’t want to get involved.”

Real estate was a tight circle. Although Nancheng and Beicheng rarely overlapped in business, news of a murder would surely reach the North District soon. So there was no point hiding it.

“He was murdered,” Chen Jing said.

The manager nearly fell out of his chair, stunned. “Why… why would anyone do that?”

“That’s why I’m here. Now, can you tell me more? What kind of person was he? Why did he leave?”

The manager wiped his sweat and said, “I could’ve tolerated the petty theft—it was just little things, and his performance was decent. But he was a creep. Not only did he harass our female staff, but he even dared touch our female clients. That’s unacceptable—it hurt our reputation.”

“He worked here for five months. At first, he was okay, closed a few deals, and I had high hopes. But by the third month, he started joking about having female clients buy him meals or gifts. He thought he was charming—like a gigolo or something.”

Chen Jing: “…”

The manager continued, “He knew who to target. He wouldn’t mess with young women who looked like they could push back. But our younger employees—he’d touch them because they wouldn’t want to cause trouble. If it was a well-kept, wealthy middle-aged woman, he’d get bold—flirty comments, playing cute, mooching off them.”

“How did you find out?”

“He crossed the line with one client. She was in her forties, looked amazing. He couldn’t help himself—said sleazy things and even touched her leg. She filed a complaint. We rely on our reputation, so we had to let him go. I later heard he couldn’t stay in the North District anymore. Didn’t know he moved to Nancheng.”

Chen Jing asked, “One more thing—before he joined your agency, he’d worked at several others in the North District, but only stayed a few months at each. Based on what you said, he had a habit of stealing and harassing women. You hadn’t heard anything?”

The manager sighed. “After he left, I talked with some peers. That kind of thing—we all try to keep it quiet. If it gets out, people don’t talk about him being trash—they talk about our agency having low standards. So we all cover it up. But after what he did at so many places, the gossip finally spread.”

Chen Jing then visited the other real estate agencies and delivery stations where Zhang Xuming had worked. Their opinions were nearly identical. A female client who had previously complained about him mentioned one important detail: he had a sweet tooth. He wasn’t indiscriminate, though—he liked refined sweets. The first time, she had a Japanese-style dessert in her bag, and he asked for a bite. Later, he joked about wanting Napoleon cake while walking past a bakery.

As the investigation deepened, Zhang Xuming’s life came into clearer focus. He had lived in the city for at least four years, stayed in cramped shared apartments or cheap studios. He had no friends and had never had a serious girlfriend. He lived frugally, using stolen goods to supplement his life and taking advantage of women to satisfy both psychological and physical needs. In the North District, his work performance was actually decent, and he had saved over 500,000 yuan—slowly deposited, bit by bit, over months.

What was he saving that money for?

Maybe the person who killed him knew.

Chen Jing shared her findings with Ji Chenjiao. Both of them had noticed his preference for sweets.

“There was a female footprint at the scene. Zhang Xuming was a lecher. The killer may have posed as a client looking to view a property,” Ji Chenjiao reasoned. “She was clearly well-prepared—brought a peanut-laced dessert, and lured Zhang Xuming into an abandoned field. Chen Jing, did you find any suspicious contacts in his call logs?”

“His phone hasn’t been recovered yet. The records from the service provider haven’t turned up anything unusual,” Chen Jing replied. “But luring him with a house showing is the most likely scenario. What about your side?”

“I just got cursed out by Zhang Xuming’s father.”

“…What?” Chen Jing was speechless.

Cangshui Town was small. Anyone could find out about the Zhang family with a few casual inquiries. Zhang Xuming’s parents had divorced when he was in elementary school; his mother had left, and he lived with his father, Zhang Guoli.

Zhang Guoli had once worked in a coal mine but lost a leg in an accident and made a living shining shoes at a roadside stall. The neighbors all felt sorry for him—because he had such a disappointing son.

Perhaps because his father was too soft, Zhang Xuming had been disobedient since childhood. He often got into fights in elementary school, and once in middle school, he fell in with local gangsters. After graduating junior high, he didn’t continue studying. Father Zhang had used up his savings to send him to a technical school so he could eventually work in a factory and at least have a way to support himself. But Zhang Xuming still didn’t change. Without the constraints of school, he got worse—completely reckless.

Father Zhang was so furious he fell seriously ill and eventually cut off all ties with his son.

Around the age of twenty, Zhang Xuming either finally came to his senses or had simply run out of money and couldn’t get by anymore. He left Cangshui Town to work in the city where his mother lived. A few years later, he returned and had since been active in the main city.

After hearing all this, Chen Jing asked in surprise, “All these years the father and son never contacted each other? Even after Zhang Xuming was murdered, his father wouldn’t let you inside the house?”

Ji Chenjiao leaned against the car door, glancing up at the old, dilapidated building. “He said he didn’t want to hear the name Zhang Xuming again in this life. Dead is dead—he should’ve died long ago.”

“Should’ve died long ago…”

Ji Chenjiao took a deep breath. “The old man might know something, but he doesn’t want to face it—let alone talk about it.”

“Oh, right,” Chen Jing asked. “What year did Zhang Xuming leave Cangshui Town?”

“The exact time hasn’t been verified yet,” Ji Chenjiao replied, fiddling with a lighter as his gaze shifted subtly. “But according to the people in town, it was twelve years ago.”

“Then…” Chen Jing said, “It could be connected to that case in Cangshui Town—and the one you’re investigating now…”

Ji Chenjiao nodded. “Very likely connected.”

Chen Jing let out a sigh. “Good thing our sub-bureau didn’t ‘close the case’ too early, or it would’ve been a huge delay.”

Ji Chenjiao chuckled. “Interested in joining the major crimes unit?”

“No thanks,” Chen Jing declined with ease. “I’d better look after my own patch of land.”

Ji Chenjiao debated whether to go back upstairs for another attempt, but the tricycle driver, Ling Lie, spoke up: “The old man’s not going anywhere. Give him time to process things. Captain Ji, where to next?”

“Cangshui Middle School. I need to look into Zhang Xuming’s relationships.”

Zhang Xuming had graduated from Cangshui Middle School too. But unlike Tang Hongting, he hadn’t attended the high school division.

Principal Guan didn’t react at first when she heard Zhang Xuming’s name, but after checking the student records, she suddenly remembered and sighed repeatedly. “That group of kids… we teachers failed them.”

When she spoke of Zhang Xuming, Principal Guan’s tone was very different from when she spoke of Tang Hongting—equal parts helpless and frustrated. It was clear she genuinely didn’t know how to deal with kids like Zhang Xuming. Eventually, she asked Ji Chenjiao to wait and called over a few of Zhang Xuming’s former teachers to talk together.

Teenage boys who went astray were very difficult to guide, and their behavior was contagious—one delinquent in a class could influence a whole group. The teachers flipped through the records, and memories rushed back. They couldn’t manage these students and ended up grouping all the troublemakers into one class. After junior high, most of them didn’t go on to high school. Some went to technical school; others just roamed the streets.

Twelve years ago, Cangshui Town’s public security had been poor. Fights between young delinquents and older thugs were frequent, especially around Hualan Street. Things only started to improve after Tang Hongting’s case, when the town cracked down on crime. As those punks grew older and had to focus on earning a living, the situation settled down.

“But not many from that group made anything of themselves,” said one teacher. “They came from bad family backgrounds, didn’t study hard, had no diplomas—how could they find proper jobs?” He glanced at the spread-out records in front of him—eight ID photos across two pages. “I’ve occasionally asked about how they’re doing. Most of them are just like Zhang Xuming—doing odd jobs, renting cheap places, no money, can’t even afford to marry.”

Another teacher leaned in. “Hey, isn’t this Wan Yue?”

The teachers began chatting again. “Wan Yue was an exception—a reformed troublemaker, I guess?”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “And who is he?”

They explained that Wan Yue had also been in the delinquent class, always involved in fights—caused endless headaches for the school. But he was clever and had perseverance. His family was slightly better off than the others’. At some point in adulthood, he suddenly turned his life around, studied hard, and got into a top university. Now, he worked at a big company in the city. His family spoke of him with pride.

Among all the wayward students of Cangshui Middle School, he was the only one who’d truly made something of himself.

Later, at the Cangshui Police Station, the deputy chief confirmed the exact time Zhang Xuming left town—it was November of the same year Tang Hongting had been killed.

“We interviewed him back then too,” said the deputy chief as he pulled out the old transcript, recalling a vague figure. “He barely attended technical school. His job habits were inconsistent—some days he worked, some days he didn’t. When he had no gigs, he loitered on Hualan Street, even asked students for money. But at that time, he wasn’t particularly troublesome. Just one of many we questioned. He claimed he was sleeping at home, but we had no way to prove or disprove it.”

The deputy shook his head, frustrated. “During the dragnet sweep, there were so many like him. No proof he was at the scene, no proof he wasn’t. Plus, we couldn’t find any connection between him and Tang Hongting, so we dropped it. Others like him were also released.”

Later that evening, Ji Chenjiao returned to the Zhang household. Just as he was about to go upstairs, he saw Ling Lie stepping out from the shadows of the stairwell.

Ji Chenjiao hadn’t seen Ling Lie or the tricycle since leaving Cangshui Middle School—turned out, he’d come here.

“Captain Ji,” Ling Lie greeted with a grin. “Come on, I’ll treat you to a roujiamo.”

Ji Chenjiao was hungry, sure, but he wasn’t in the mood for food. “You go ahead. I’m going back up to talk to Old Zhang again.”

“No, don’t. He’ll get irritated if you keep pushing. He told me there’s a roujiamo place in the west of town that’s pretty good. Let’s eat and talk.”

“He let you in?” Ji Chenjiao asked.

Ling Lie smiled. “Chatted for an hour. The old man doesn’t like cops, but he’ll talk to me.”

Ji Chenjiao thought back to Fathet Zhang’s earlier hostility. “What did you say to him? And he even recommended you a sandwich?”

Ling Lie had already hopped onto his tricycle. “You eating or not? If not, I’m going by myself.”

Then came a loud stomach growl.

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

“Your stomach is more honest than you are,” Ling Lie said sincerely.

As Ji Chenjiao got on the tricycle, he thought: I’m not craving a food—I want to know what Zhang Guoli told him.

“The old man was too emotional in the morning,” said Ling Lie. “So I went again around sunset. Waited outside for about fifteen minutes before he opened the door. He’s over sixty, lost his son late in life. Even if he’d long since disowned him—it’s still pitiful. When I went in, his eyes were red.”

Ling Lie looked around the house. Though the furniture was old, everything was clean and tidy. On the table lay a photo album, with a pair of reading glasses resting on top. Nearly every photo featured Zhang Xuming—of course, from when he was young. The photos also showed a woman and a much younger Zhang Guoli.

They had once been a family of three.

When Ling Lie noticed the album, Zhang Guoli instinctively tried to hide it, but after picking it up, he put it down again with a sigh. “How did he die?”

In that moment, it seemed all fatherly affection had long since faded—but blood ties still trembled in his voice.

Ling Lie told him the police were still investigating and asked if he’d be willing to go to the main city.

Zhang Guoli sat there, unmoving, his hand slowly caressing the photo album’s cover. After a few seconds, he said, “Once the truth is found, I’ll go collect his ashes.”

Ling Lie asked, “If I asked whether you knew of anyone who might’ve held a grudge against Zhang Xuming—you probably wouldn’t know, right? You had long cut ties with him.”

“I…” Zhang Guoli opened his mouth for a long time before he could speak, grief rising in his eyes. “I knew this day would come! If someone came for revenge, I should’ve dragged him to confess years ago!”

Ling Lie had been waiting for this exact moment when Zhang Guoli would lose control of his emotions. If he pressed too hard, as a father, Zhang Guoli might not say anything—but by retreating and appearing understanding, he had instead triggered Zhang Guoli’s need to unburden himself.

“Take your time,” Ling Lie said calmly. “Our Captain Ji is a good officer. He will definitely get to the truth.”

Zhang Guoli covered his face with both hands, tears leaking through his fingers and falling to the ground. “That girl in Cangzhong… she might’ve died because of him!”

Ling Lie asked, “He told you that himself?”

“He absolutely denied it! But I’m his father—I know!” Zhang Guoli burst out. “He always liked running off to that street, hanging out with a bunch of good-for-nothings, coming home late at night. That day, he didn’t come home until after five in the morning, and he was all flustered. The moment he got home, he rushed to take a shower.”

“He never comes back that late. The sky was already turning light. And he never showers right away—he usually sleeps until the afternoon before washing up. I heard him, so I got up and warmed some milk for him. I left it in the living room, didn’t turn on the lights. I was going to call him over after his shower.”

“But as soon as I said something, he jumped and screamed, turned on the lights immediately. When he saw it was me, he got mad for no reason.”

“At the time, I just thought he’d been drinking and was throwing a drunken tantrum. The next day, I heard that a girl was found dead on that street—and something felt off. But I… I didn’t dare think in that direction!”

Zhang Guoli couldn’t continue. Ling Lie waited patiently. Seeing him fumbling for a cigarette, he handed over one of his own.

After finishing two cigarettes, Zhang Guoli finally calmed down. “The police searched the whole town for the killer. They brought him in for questioning. I was so worried. When he got back, he warned me not to say anything. I asked him if he had killed that girl. He got furious, said I wanted him dead.”

“The police never caught anyone. For months, I couldn’t sleep peacefully. The more I thought about it, the more I felt like my son had done it. But how could I go to the police? He’s my only family!”

“So the matter just hung in the air. At the end of that year, he told me he was quitting trade school, quitting his job, and going to find his mother. I lost it and asked if he was just trying to run away. He yelled at me, said I was unfit to be a father. Said I was trying to ruin him. Said I was such a loser that even his mother had run off…”

After a violent argument, both father and son said things they couldn’t take back. Zhang Xuming left home and, even though he returned to Cangshui Town later, he never came home again.

When Zhang Xuming left, Zhang Guoli actually felt a sense of empty relief. But for the past twelve years, he had lived with a sword hanging over his head. He had never left Cangshui in his life, never received higher education. He believed his son was a killer—and killers should pay with their lives.

“But that’s just his suspicion.”

A bright bulb hung above the roujiamo stall, casting light over Ling Lie’s face, making his eyelashes shimmer faintly, like black feathers gliding across a lake.

Sure enough, the west side of Cangshui Town had plenty of street vendors. Business was good at this time of day. Ling Lie bought one beef and ham roujiamo, and one with pig’s ear and walnut meat. The thick gravy soaked into the bread—the aroma alone was enough to make anyone hungry.

Ji Chenjiao took the one with pig’s ear and walnut. “Zhang Xuming never confessed to him. But this gives us material for analysis.”

They stood by the roadside in silence. Like the wind sweeping away clouds, five minutes later they had finished eating.

Ji Chenjiao said, “Thanks.”

Ling Lie replied, “Are you thanking me as a police liaison, or as your sponsor?”

Ji Chenjiao: “…”

“If it’s as a liaison, well, that’s my job. If it’s as a sponsor—hey, I bought you roujiamo. Shouldn’t you at least buy me a Coke?”

An ice-cold Coke in early summer hit the spot. Ling Lie took the can Ji Chenjiao bought and drank it with great satisfaction. Ji Chenjiao, however, frowned, thinking over the case.

These cases all lacked a crucial element. In Tang Hongting’s case, the motive was unclear. The special task force had concluded it was a crime of passion by a thug, but passion crimes usually left more evidence behind. This killer had come prepared.

Premeditation implied motive—but no matter how they looked, they couldn’t find it.

If Liu Yuchun and Zhang Xuming were killed to silence them, it was hard not to link it to the Xieyang Road case.

So… was it revenge?

Ling Lie suddenly said, “But no one around Tang Hongting seems like someone who would avenge her. Does this person not exist? If we can’t find this ‘nonexistent’ person, there’s a high chance someone else will die next.”

Ji Chenjiao’s expression froze. He thought of something—was the person who killed Liu Yuchun definitely the same person who killed Zhang Xuming?

He had never personally gone to the main city to see Zhang Xuming’s body. The investigation around Zhang Xuming had been led by the Nancheng precinct.

At that moment, an “unexpected guest” arrived at the Nancheng precinct: An Xun.

The precinct’s forensic expert had already performed an autopsy on Zhang Xuming. An Xun insisted on seeing the body again. Though the local examiner was unhappy, he couldn’t object—An Xun was the top pathologist at the city bureau.

The body was removed from the cold storage and placed on the dissection table. An Xun examined the stab wound at the neck with great focus. The precinct’s forensic pathologist stood off to the side, nervous. He was confident in his skills, but if An Xun—famous as the city’s top scalpel—found anything wrong, the local bureau would lose face in its quiet rivalry with the city bureau.

To his surprise, An Xun didn’t re-perform the autopsy. After examining the neck wound and the rest of the injuries, she left.

“The killer isn’t the same person,” An Xun said into his phone, standing in the hallway. “Liu Yuchun’s wound was deeper, delivered with more force. The killer who stabbed Zhang Xuming was hesitant and nervous. The knife used was different. The grip and application of force were different. Also, from the footprints at the scene, it’s more likely the killer was a woman. But Liu Yuchun’s killer’s gender is hard to determine.”

Ji Chenjiao put down the phone, his scalp tingling. When you backtrack from the motive, the killer “doesn’t exist”—and now, there were two nonexistent killers?

For a moment, names and incomplete faces flashed through his mind. Who was it—who was avenging Tang Hongting?

Just as An Xun was about to leave the Nancheng precinct, a police car sped into the parking lot. The door flew open and Chen Jing strode over with urgency.

An Xun had worked with this formidable woman before. “Captain Chen! What’s the rush?”

Chen Jing paused. “Good, you’re here. Dr. An, do me a favor—tell Captain Ji we’ve made progress in the surveillance review. A woman was caught repeatedly tailing Zhang Xuming before his murder.”

An Xun hurried back inside with her. On the screen, in the surveillance footage that looped again and again, a woman turned her head hastily—clearly unaware of the camera’s presence.

“Hm?” An Xun suddenly stood up. “I think I’ve seen her before. She’s a reporter—she’s been hanging around the city bureau recently, trying to dig up news!”

---

Author’s Note:

Ling Lie: That’s me—the sponsor.