Li Aibing walked to the open bar counter and poured coffee beans into the coffee machine, making a sudden, jarring noise.

“Cangshui Town isn’t safe,” he said, head down, his slightly long bangs covering his face, making it hard for Ji Chenjiao to see his expression. “Everyone says Tang Hongting got involved with some dangerous people in society and was killed. The police couldn’t find the killer, so the murderer’s still at large.”

He spoke slowly, his voice low. Ji Chenjiao could almost see his chest rising and falling lightly beneath his thin sweatshirt.

“My sister was also an easy target for bullying. If she stayed there, the bad guys would know the police couldn’t touch them. What if they set their sights on my sister?” Li Aibing finally raised his head, his eyes calm. “Since you’ve already investigated Cangshui Town, you should know the police checked for months but found nothing and then stopped searching. When they slack off completely, what will happen to my sister?”

Ji Chenjiao locked eyes with Li Aibing and caught a glimpse of his confidence.

“After leaving Cangshui Town, did you guys continue studying?”

Li Aibing gave a bitter smile. “No. In a family like ours, studying is useless. Better to start working early.”

Ji Chenjiao spoke casually, “So you started writing books from then on?”

“Yes. Failed many times. My sister worked to support us. Of course, I worked too — moving goods, washing dishes, selling milk tea, that kind of thing,” Li Aibing squinted, “But perseverance paid off. We made it through.”

Ji Chenjiao was silent for a moment. “Your sister wasn’t really resigned, was she?”

Li Aibing: “Huh?”

“Here, look at the resume she filled out when she joined Rongxing Media.” Ji Chenjiao opened his phone’s photo album. “Under education, she didn’t list university, but wrote ‘Xiarong No. 17 Middle School.’”

Li Aibing frowned. “Probably just filled it in casually.”

“She regretted not attending university, even not getting a high school diploma. That’s why she put down No. 17 — the best high school in Xiarong City.” Ji Chenjiao stared into Li Aibing’s eyes. “You achieved your dreams. What about your sister?”

Li Aibing’s usually expressionless face finally showed a hint of looseness. He opened his mouth, hesitated for a long time, then almost evasively said, “She’s a woman, she shouldn’t have to work so hard. I’m here. Whatever she wants, I can buy for her. The life she wants, I can give it to her. I told her many times to quit that job. The pay is so low. She wouldn’t listen.”

Li Aijie was still missing. Ji Chenjiao returned to the city bureau to sort out clues. The major crimes team had two main opinions: one believed Li Aijie had been killed, reasoning that another killer was involved and that Li Aijie’s traces proved she was used; the other thought Li Aijie was alive but fled out of fear of the law, since her brother Li Aibing seemed relatively calm, as if he knew she was safe.

Both sides made sense. Ji Chenjiao listened to the arguments but couldn’t stop thinking about two confusing points.

If Zhang Xuming was killed by Li Aijie, what role did Li Aibing play? More so, what connection did he have to the deaths twelve years ago, including Tang Hongting’s? His reaction to Li Aijie’s disappearance and potential guilt seemed as if he knew something, but there was no logical evidence that he was involved.

Also, Li Aibing had only recently returned to Xiarong City. When Liu Yuchun and Zhang Xuming died, he was out of town, with a film crew and investors to confirm he had no opportunity to commit the crimes.

Furthermore, Li Aijie didn’t seem like someone who willingly got involved in these two cases. Was someone telling or forcing her to act? How did they communicate? Face to face? If not, why was there no trace online?

Though chat records could be deleted, tech investigation had restored all traces on Li Aijie’s communication platforms — yet found nothing. Who was this person hiding in the shadows still contacting Li Aijie?

The conference room was thick with smoke. The team hadn’t rested much lately, relying on cigarettes and coffee. After the meeting, Liang Wenxian called Ji Chenjiao aside.

Ji Chenjiao asked, “About Ji Ke?”

Liang Wenxian nodded. “Xiarong Normal School really had Ji Ke and Principal Chen Bian’an, and they were roommates. Principal Chen was an outstanding student, winning many awards. Ji Ke was like his opposite, always criticized. He only studied for two years, never became a teacher.”

“Why?”

“Unknown. Their teacher had long left, classmates either passed away or moved. One elder from their year stayed at the school but retired. He’s in the hospital, just had surgery, family won’t let visitors in.”

Ji Chenjiao took a note with the elder’s name and hospital info. “Thanks, Brother Liang. I’ll find time to visit.”

Meanwhile, Ling Lie was still in Cangshui Town. He picked a handful of dandelions — all round and cute. He hid behind a wall and waved the dandelions out, then back and forth.

Shen Qi passed by, intrigued and about to catch them, but Ling Lie pulled his hand back, and Shen Qi missed.

Seeing it was Ling Lie, Shen Qi immediately became alert.

Ling Lie curled his finger to beckon.

Shen Qi growled, “What do you want?”

Ling Lie: “Want some? All yours. But I have a condition.”

Shen Qi’s eyes followed the dandelions as they swayed. “What condition?”

“My crowd credentials only get me into the Cangshui Middle School campus. I can’t get into the principal’s office. You take me there.”

Shen Qi was on guard. “What bad idea do you have now?”

Ling Lie hid the dandelions behind his back. No deal? Forget it. Want the dandelions? No giving.

Shen Qi: “…”

Ling Lie swaggered away. Shen Qi struggled for a few seconds then decisively dropped his pride. “I’ll take you! But you have to tell me what you’re doing! My brother isn’t here, so I have to take responsibility for you!”

Ling Lie put the dandelions in Shen Qi’s hand and patted the young man’s shoulder. “Didn’t you say Principal Chen might be related to the case? I want to see if he left anything at the school.”

Halfway there, Shen Qi suddenly remembered something. “There’s a set of military chess in the glass cabinet! When I first came with brother, Principal Guan said it was left by Principal Chen!”

Ling Lie raised an eyebrow. “Military chess?”

“Yeah! You played it as a kid, right? The kind with soldiers, generals, mines, missiles. But it’s outdated now. I even ordered one online the other day.” Shen Qi paused, “You… never played it?”

Ling Lie smiled. “Never.”

Shen Qi instantly felt pity. What kind of boy didn’t play military chess as a kid? He must have had an unhappy childhood!

All his feelings were written on his face, and Ling Lie understood immediately. “Then next time, teach me?”

Shen Qi no longer disliked Ling Lie. A man who never played military chess as a child was just a little poor thing in his eyes. And what could he hold against a poor thing? “Alright, I’ll teach you when we get back!”

They arrived at Cangshui Middle School. Shen Qi greeted Principal Guan and pointed out the military chess in the glass case.

Besides the chess set, there were some other outdated small toys. Ling Lie looked over them one by one, then was about to leave.

Shen Qi asked, “That’s it? You got any insights?”

Ling Lie calmly said, “Got nothing.”

“Then was it all for nothing?”

“Was it? Didn’t you get a bunch of round, cute dandelions?”

Shen Qi looked at the dandelions, their rounded heads swaying gently in the breeze, foolishly seeming to laugh at him for being foolish too.

Shen Qi: “…”

Shen Qi looked up again, but Ling Lie had already disappeared. He deeply suspected that he had been played by Ling Lie.

A large-scale investigation was underway in Cangshui Town.

Xi Wan reported that, filtering for those who left within one year after Tang Hongting was murdered, with similar behavior to Zhang Xuming and a history of being a hoodlum, they found only 39 people. Considering age and removing the older ones, only 10 remained.

Xi Wan was somewhat worried. “But even with this check, I feel there might still be oversights, and those oversights are hard to avoid.”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Hmm?”

“Liu Yuchun. If Liu Yuchun isn’t dead and is related to Tang Hongting’s death, then with her situation, we can’t really investigate her. We can only check those with characteristics similar to Zhang Xuming.”

After a moment of silence, Ji Chenjiao said, “Do you have time to send me the list now?”

Ten minutes later, Ji Chenjiao was sitting in the car, having reviewed the list. “No Wan Yue?”

Xi Wan asked, “Who?”

“Also a hoodlum, used to study at Cangzhong. I remember him because the teachers said he was the only one who reformed and is doing well now. He definitely isn’t in Cangshui Town anymore; he went out to study. He wasn’t gone within that one year?”

“I’ll check.” There was the sound of rustling on the phone. After a while, Xi Wan said, “The Wan Yue you mentioned did leave Cangshui Town, but it was one and a half years later. Why, do you suspect him?”

Ji Chenjiao shook his head. He just had a strong impression of the name among all the strangers. Before doing the population flow check, he and Xi Wan had discussed limiting the time frame from half a year to one year, just to be more cautious. If someone related to Tang Hongting’s death was to escape, they would have done so earlier. One or two years later, it wouldn’t really count as fleeing.

“I’ll look into this person,” Xi Wan said.

Ji Chenjiao was about to reply when Xi Wan laughed, “Boss, I trust your intuition. I think people who deal with homicide for a long time develop a kind of sixth sense—like a magnet attracting iron nails. Since we’ve noticed it, we shouldn’t let it go.”

The homicide team began verifying the current status of the people on the list. Zhang Xuming’s case was mainly investigated by the Nancheng branch, so Ji Chenjiao handed over the task of monitoring Li Aibing to them. After Chen Jing understood the siblings’ background, she suddenly felt moved, and her expression softened a bit.

Ji Chenjiao noticed and asked, “Captain Chen, what’s wrong?”

Chen Jing shook her head. “I have a younger brother, only two years younger, and he was very attached to me when we were kids. Whatever good things he got, he always wanted to give to his sister, insisting on protecting me and making me feel like a princess.”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “And now?”

“My ‘princess’ didn’t become a princess, but a police officer. Now he doesn’t care about me.”

“?”

“Don’t misunderstand. We don’t have family conflicts,” Chen Jing explained. “But maybe I made him sad, because as we grew up, it was me who took on the responsibility of protecting him.”

Ji Chenjiao didn’t know the situation in Chen Jing’s family but tried to imagine for himself. If he had a sister, he certainly wouldn’t want her to suffer any harm. Being a police officer is a dangerous job, so he wouldn’t want his sister to be one either. Sisters should be protected by the men in the family.

“Your brother is worried about you,” Ji Chenjiao said. “In a brother’s eyes, whether the sister is a child or an adult, she should be protected.”

Chen Jing looked at him with some surprise and smiled, “Captain Ji, I find you’re actually quite soft inside.”

Li Aibing seemed aware he was under police surveillance. He lived a routine life daily, no longer updating anything online, just going out to buy groceries or shop, and only watching dramas online. Sometimes, when he met the police, he would ask if there was any news about his sister.

Ji Chenjiao felt his stillness was because he was waiting for something.

–

Cangshui Town.

After teasing Shen Qi, Ling Lie rode a tricycle to a new building project in the south of the town, where standalone villas were being built. The developer wanted to create a wealthy residential area like in Xiayong City, but the town didn’t have that purchasing power, so most villas were empty.

Although Ling Lie’s vehicle was a tricycle, he looked like a house hunter, and no one chased him away. He wandered casually for a while and saw an old man walking a toy poodle.

The poodle barked excitedly at Ling Lie, who imitated the barking, “Chuo chuo chuo—”

The old man sized up Ling Lie with a clear look of disdain, but he was cautious about mistaking him for a rich person since nowadays some wealthy folks disguised themselves as laborers.

After thinking, he started a conversation, “Young man, are you planning to buy a house here?”

Ling Lie smiled, “Not decided yet, just looking around. You live here?”

The old man proudly lifted his head, loving such questions, and pointed to a nearby villa. “That’s my house. This community is great—quiet, well landscaped, safe, very comfortable to live in, but…”

Ling Lie prompted, “Hmm? What’s not good?”

The old man winked, “Everything’s good, just expensive!”

Ling Lie nodded in agreement.

The old man looked at him again, “Young man, you’re buying the house yourself?”

Ling Lie smiled warmly, “You see, I can’t afford it myself.”

The old man frowned, “Then what about…”

“My parents made money doing business on the coast; they bought it for me!”

The old man’s expression changed from suspicion to joy, with a hint of envy in his eyes. “That’s good, that’s good! Which house do you like? Maybe we’ll be neighbors!”

Ling Lie: “Still looking. Do you live here with your children?”

“Hey!” The old man boasted, “My wife and I live here! My grandson bought this place for me, paid in full!”

“Oh! You’re blessed. Your grandson is impressive and knows how to respect you. What does he do for work?”

The old man eagerly opened up and praised his grandson with enthusiasm.

“My grandson is amazing! You go to town and ask around, who doesn’t know the name Wan Yue!”

Ling Lie listened with great interest. “Your grandson is called Wan Yue? Good name! Did you name him? You must be well-educated!”

Wan, the old man, felt extremely pleased with the compliment, wanting to tell the story from when Wan Yue was still in his mother’s womb.

The Wan family wasn’t wealthy originally. Wan Yue’s parents divorced when he was in elementary school. His mother looked down on his father and went to do business elsewhere with someone from their hometown. Wan Yue stayed with his father and stopped studying after middle school. The family couldn’t control him and just watched as he mixed with local hooligans.

When Wan Yue was nineteen, his mother suddenly returned to Cangshui Town, saying she wanted to take him away. By then, she had become wealthy, dressed well and clearly a rich person, having married a big boss.

The Wan family was reluctant to let Wan Yue go, but Wan Yue was willing to leave.

His mother spent money to put Wan Yue, who only had a middle school education, into an international school to start over. Wan Yue’s rebellious phase seemed to end overnight, and he began studying seriously.

He didn’t take the domestic college entrance exam; his mother and stepfather sent him abroad to study for five years. He earned dual degrees in law and business administration, then returned to work in a large company’s legal department.

The Wan family originally thought Wan Yue would look down on them after his success, but he returned every year to visit and even bought a villa for Elder Wan.

Now, Elder Wan was the happiest person in Cangshui Town and boasted to everyone about how successful and impressive Wan Yue was.

Wan Yue was well-known in Cangshui Town, thanks in no small part to Elder Wan’s “efforts.”

“This house is really nice; it gives you face,” Elder Wan said, accompanying Ling Lie to the community gate, rubbing his fingers in pride and showing off, “But whether you can live here depends on whether your family can afford that much money!”

Ling Lie: “I’ll wait a few decades and see.”

Wan the old man looked confused. “Wait… a few decades?”

“A few decades later, what if I also have a grandson like your Wan Yue who’s successful?”

They both laughed heartily.

Meanwhile, in the money-and-land-scarce Financial Port of Xiarong City, inside a towering office building, Wan Yue looked at documents just delivered by his assistant and then spaced out for a moment.

At Xiarong Sixth Hospital, Ji Chenjiao, carrying fruit baskets and supplements, arrived at a three-person ward. Inside was the elderly man who was a former classmate of Ji Ke and Chen Bian’an and currently the only surviving classmate the cold case team could locate.

The old man’s family was still somewhat resistant to the police, feeling their father was just recovering from illness and shouldn’t be questioned. Ji Chenjiao explained that he just wanted to learn about their early school days, not interrogate him. The old man wanted to get some fresh air and, hearing this, agreed gladly.

The weather was nice and clear, not too hot. The hospital garden downstairs was shaded with trees. Ji Chenjiao pushed the wheelchair while the old man’s hoarse voice reminisced about bygone days.

In the old man’s memory, Chen Bian’an was the noblest and most sincere person he knew, who had resolved from the beginning of school to devote his life to education. Chen Bian’an was the top student of their year and could have continued further studies, stayed at the school, or gone to a better school, but he resolutely returned home, saying education resources were scarce there and he wanted to contribute.

Compared to Chen Bian’an, Ji Ke was an outlier—not in terms of grades, which were sometimes even higher than Chen Bian’an’s—but because he held some strange ideas, teaching kids ideas not aligned with teacher ethics or social norms, and his words were often inflammatory. Not just the kids with immature worldviews, even independent-minded peers could be “brainwashed” by Ji Ke.

Teachers gave Ji Ke low marks; a professor pointed out early that Ji Ke was smart but unsuitable for teaching. This judgment made Ji Ke’s academic path very difficult, and classmates largely distanced themselves from him. Only Chen Bian’an remained a friend.

Classmates kindly advised Chen Bian’an not to get too close to Ji Ke, but he said Ji Ke was outstanding and that differences should be respected; he saw no reason to reject a talented person with his own ideas.

Two years later, Ji Ke was asked to leave the school due to multiple rule violations and severe ideological problems. The official record didn’t specify why, but classmates knew generally what happened.

Chen Bian’an even appealed to the school, arguing that even if Ji Ke couldn’t become a teacher, he shouldn’t be deprived of his right to education. The school ultimately rejected the appeal. Ji Ke talked a lot with Chen Bian’an when leaving school, but no one else knew what they discussed.

After that, life went on, and nobody saw Ji Ke again.

“After graduation, we mostly lost contact. I heard Ji Ke went to work in a factory,” the old man said, looking at the blue sky. “He was a smart guy; I’m sure he made something of himself wherever he went.”

Ji Chen asked the last question: “How did Ji Ke react when asked to leave? Did he accept it calmly or show strong dissatisfaction?”

“He fought for a long time, made quite a fuss. I think he still wanted to be a teacher. It’s a pity—without graduation, he could never be one,” the old man shook his head, “But it was his own fault. I worked in education all my life, and I know a teacher must not only be competent but also have proper thoughts and morals. Someone who uses the teacher’s role to spread improper ideas absolutely cannot teach.”

After saying goodbye, Ji Chen felt the outline of Ji Ke became clearer. Ji Ke had once wanted to be a teacher but failed due to character and ideology. He was deeply resentful—this was evident from his unwillingness to talk about not graduating with the younger generation. He had his own ideas and was skilled at “brainwashing” those less educated than himself. When persuading people like Xian Xiyi to “return to the right path,” did he see himself as a good teacher? He likely held deep resentment against formal education. This experience probably made him an “observer” who searched for his “subjects” over decades, trying to influence them with his own ideas.

Chen Bian’an and Ji Ke seemed to have mutual respect. It was now impossible to verify what they discussed 18 years ago or why Ji Ke approached Chen Bian’an then. But one fact remains: Ji Ke helped Chen Bian’an greatly with discounted tiles.

Was Ji Ke repaying Chen Bian’an for his support back then?

When Ji Ke was expelled, Chen Bian’an was the only classmate who defended him. When Chen Bian’an was busy with renovations, Ji Ke was apparently the only classmate who lent a hand.

So, what would be a reasonable reaction of Ji Ke when Chen Bian’an passed away?

Ji Chen suddenly considered a possibility: Could someone like Ji Ke plan revenge?

But Ji Ke died three years ago.

When the last case of the Xiyang Road series remained unsolved, the cold case team once considered the idea—Ji Ke not only wanted to see his “subjects” live normal lives but also hoped they would kill each other to keep their secrets forever, fully proving human nature’s baseness.

But he did not see that before he died.

Also, no one took revenge for Chen Bian’an before his death—if the revenge theory were true.

Ji Chen pinched his brow, feeling a tidal wave of clues rushing in.

If Ji Ke and Chen Bian’an were close friends, would Ji Ke be indifferent after learning about the deep causes behind his friend’s death? Or had he already sown seeds that sprouted after his death?

---

Author’s Note:

Shen Qi: I’m watching over you for my brother not being bullied by you on his behalf QAQ