After Long Shasha confessed to killing Ou Hong, she claimed that she had no involvement in Kang Wanbin’s death and had no idea who the killer might be. Thus, the two murders that occurred on the same night, at the same banquet, were like a twisted Rubik’s cube. The police’s investigation into Kang Wanbin’s case had been heavily influenced by the Luo Wanwan (Ou Hong) case, with many lines of thought overlapping. Now, to straighten things out, they needed to twist the Rubik’s cube back along its original path, which was proving troublesome.

But unexpectedly, Long Shasha provided a clue.

“If you’re willing to trust a murderer like me,” she looked at Ji Chenjiao again, her gaze much calmer than before, “I think Ou Hong had changed a lot over the past two years. We agreed that she would get close to Kang Wanbin to take revenge. From start to finish, our plan never involved killing him—only to drag him down from his pedestal.”

“But… I don’t know how to describe it—Ou Hong started mentioning killing Kang Wanbin more and more often. I didn’t understand. I don’t know what kind of stimulation she might have received.”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “Did you ever ask her?”

Long Shasha shook her head. “Ever since I decided to take revenge for my sister, I couldn’t get along with her as naturally as before. Plus, we’ve both been busy and didn’t spend as much time together as we used to.”

Ji Chenjiao asked again, “Based on what you know about her, do you have any guesses?”

After a moment of silence, Long Shasha spoke. “Ou Hong… because of a lack of love during her childhood, and maybe because of her natural disposition, she’s very obsessive. Most people wouldn’t notice—they’d only think she’s strong and persistent—but I know it’s pathological. Because I once gave her my care, she felt I belonged to her, and she didn’t want me to have any sister besides her. Someone like that could easily be manipulated, fed with dark thoughts. I don’t know if such a person existed, but under normal circumstances, she would not have thought of killing Kang Wanbin.”

Solving one case and another still pending—the Major Crimes Unit and the Nancheng Branch held a joint meeting. Shen Qi had stepped out of his comfort zone and made considerable progress in his fieldwork. Ji Chenjiao even praised him.

“If it weren’t for my brother, I wouldn’t have managed it,” Shen Qi insisted on giving all the credit to Ling Lie, who wasn’t even present.

But for a moment, everyone was confused by who he meant by “my brother” and turned to look at Ji Chenjiao in surprise.

Ji Chenjiao was puzzled too.

“Ah! I meant my Brother Lie,” Shen Qi quickly clarified, now calling Ling Lie with a sweet and affectionate tone, “When I first arrived in Nanfeng District, I was totally lost. None of the aunties or ladies would talk to me. My Brother Lie told everyone I was his boss. They thought he was impressive, so I must be even more impressive. That’s the only reason they chatted with me!”

An Xun stifled a laugh. Xi Wan covered her face and whispered to Liang Wenxian, “Shen Qi really is like a puppy.”

After questioning Long Shasha, Ji Chenjiao hadn’t seen Ling Lie. Even now, during the meeting, Ling Lie was nowhere to be found. Though Ling Lie technically wasn’t required to attend, it was odd that he hadn’t reported back at all after returning from the field.

Ji Chenjiao asked Shen Qi, “So where is your Brother Lie? Why didn’t he come back with you?”

Shen Qi replied, “Brother Lie said he’s getting old and can’t run around like me. He went home for a long nap.”

Ji Chenjiao: “…” Fine.

The Major Crimes Unit had been entirely focused on the Luo Wanwan (Ou Hong) case these past two days. The investigation into Kang Wanbin’s death had mostly fallen to the Nancheng Branch. Chen Jing looked troubled. “Captain Ji, Kang Wanbin made a lot of enemies, but everyone we found with a strong enough motive has been ruled out. Honestly, the person who seems most likely to have committed the crime is Jiang Meng.”

Xi Wan agreed. “Captain Chen makes sense. Jiang Meng definitely had the opportunity. Based on the footprints he left on Kang Wanbin’s windowsill, I suspect that when he entered the room, the real killer had already lured Kang Wanbin out, leaving it empty. But Jiang Meng could have faked this clue.”

Ji Chenjiao said, “Faking clues would be to divert suspicion. But now he insists he’s the killer—why go to such trouble for nothing?”

The room fell silent. Logically, it didn’t add up.

After a while, Chen Jing asked, “So how should we proceed with this case? Honestly, Captain Ji, I’m out of leads.”

“Follow up on Long Shasha’s clue,” Ji Chenjiao said to Shen Qi.

Shen Qi agreed but couldn’t help but say, “But brother, I’ve already checked Ou Hong’s communications and passed any suspicious contacts to Captain Chen.”

Chen Jing nodded. “All ruled out.”

Ji Chenjiao: “Check again. Maybe there’s a blind spot.”

Shen Qi: “Yes, sir.”

After the meeting, Ji Chenjiao found Xie Qing to report on Long Shasha’s case. As Xie Qing read the report, he remarked, “Ling Lie helped you a lot again this time, huh?”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “What exactly is his identity?”

Xie Qing looked troubled. “Here we go again.”

“If you won’t tell me, I’ll keep asking.”

Xie Qing sighed. “It’s not that I want to hide it from you, junior brother—you just don’t have the clearance.”

“…So his clearance is higher than mine?”

Xie Qing rubbed his nose. “You could say that. His situation is complicated. Instead of bugging me, why don’t you ask him?”

Ji Chenjiao thought, If he didn’t go off on wild tangents every time I asked, would I need to bug you?

Xie Qing added, “You might not have to wait much longer.”

“Huh?”

“Looks like there’s some movement from above. He’s taken on a mission—that’s why I’ve been cooperating with him. But the details, I really don’t know. I can tell you one thing, though.”

“What is it?”

“Have you noticed that from last year to this year, several entrepreneurs have been murdered in other provinces?”

Of course Ji Chenjiao knew. He frowned. “Kang Wanbin, too.”

Xie Qing shook his head. “No, Kang Wanbin’s wealth and status weren’t quite enough. But the higher-ups might still take his case seriously—especially since Ling Lie happens to be here in Xiarong City.”

Ji Chenjiao asked, “But those other cases don’t seem connected—other than the fact that the victims were all rich businessmen. Do they think someone’s behind it all?”

“Hard to say. I’m just guessing based on the cases, Kang Wanbin, and Ling Lie being here. What the higher-ups really think, I don’t know.”

Though he hadn’t pried Ling Lie’s secrets from Xie Qing, Ji Chenjiao gained a new line of thought. If the Kang Wanbin case was linked to those other entrepreneur murders, the investigation couldn’t follow the usual approach.

Back in his office, Ji Chenjiao found news reports on the other entrepreneur cases. The internal network at the bureau didn’t give him details from other cities, but media coverage was fairly thorough and had summarized some commonalities.

For example, all the entrepreneurs had questionable private lives. Many had been exposed for shameful deeds from their youth.

Ji Chenjiao rested his chin on folded hands. The division’s investigation of Kang Wanbin had focused on his life after returning to China and starting his business, but little attention had been paid to his past. Compared to his later high-profile life, his neglected adolescence in the Kang family seemed unworthy of digging into.

But was it really true that he had made no enemies back then? Like those other disgraced entrepreneurs, had Kang Wanbin sown the seeds of revenge in his youth?

The office phone was playing the news in the background, mentioning how summer had brought a travel boom in the western regions of the country—most travelers being retired couples, finally free to enjoy the country’s majestic landscapes.

Ji Chenjiao snapped out of his case-focused thoughts, remembering the odd conversation with his foster mother Zhou Yun. They had said they were going west to travel—where were they now?

A twinge of guilt struck as he opened his contacts. His foster parents had raised him well, given him the best environment, supported him through university and his career. Even now that he wasn’t planning to marry, they never pressured him like other families might. His mother always said his life was his own—as long as he was happy, they’d support him.

And yet, as their son, he barely paid them enough attention. Work was the biggest reason—he truly didn’t have the energy or time to check in regularly.

But deep down, he knew another reason: he had never valued family ties much.

After a moment’s thought, he dialed Zhou Yun’s number, but no one answered. He then called his foster father, Ji Nocheng. After several rings, Ji Nocheng picked up. Ji Chenjiao greeted him, and the familiar voice responded, asking how he was, if he was tired—just everyday small talk.

He listened carefully but found it unusually quiet on the other end of the line—not like they were out traveling. He asked, “Where are you guys?” Ji Nocheng replied that they were at the hotel. The western region had high altitudes and was exhausting; after a day of sightseeing, they needed a day to rest.

There wasn’t much more to say. Ji Chenjiao confirmed they really were on a trip, gave a few reminders, and then hung up. He checked his adoptive parents’ social media feed again. There were no scenic photos—just company news, same as always.

That was very much like them. They never posted anything too personal on social media. But Ji Chenjiao couldn’t shake a faint sense of unease.

Still, his priority was solving Kang Wanbin’s case. He couldn’t let personal emotions and private matters distract him.

After work, Ji Chenjiao had planned to head straight back to the residential compound. That person at home was full of ideas—and a “higher rank” than him, no less. Maybe talking things over would bring some clarity. Lately, he and Ling Lie had been so busy with their own affairs that they barely communicated.

As he passed by McDonald’s, Ji Chenjiao paused. It was here, back then, that he had shared his chicken wings with A’Dou—though at the time, he hadn’t known his name. Thinking about it now, his connection with A’Dou was also tied to his adoptive parents. If they hadn’t adopted him, he wouldn’t have been at that McDonald’s that day, meeting the hungry little A’Dou.

Could Ling Lie really be A’Dou? The thought crossed his mind as he bought a two-person meal and headed home.

When Ji Chenjiao opened the door and saw the light on in the entryway, he paused for a moment. Ling Lie had a strange obsession with saving electricity—he never turned on “useless” lights like the one in the entryway.

What was going on today?

The apartment was quiet, but clearly Ling Lie was home, because the sound of simmering came from the kitchen. A pot of stew was bubbling away, and the rich aroma of tomato and beef filled the air. In that moment, the two-person meal in Ji Chenjiao’s hand felt like cheap junk food by comparison.

He quietly changed his shoes and walked inside. Ling Lie was lying on the sofa, legs propped up against the wall, with a book covering his face.

“…”

Some people, it seemed, even practiced gymnastics in their sleep.

Ji Chenjiao walked over, bent down, and looked at Ling Lie. The book covering his face was one of his own—The World Atlas of Ice Cream—something he’d bought once just to get a discount. It was full of pictures, and after flipping through it once and finding it boring, he had tossed it onto the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

At the time, he’d wondered what kind of person would read such a pointless book. Now that it lay on Ling Lie’s face, he suddenly felt the book and the person matched rather well. Pity the book was covering Ling Lie’s face—he couldn’t see what kind of silly dream the guy was having.

His hand itched to remove it.

Ji Chenjiao straightened up, trying to walk away. But once the thought took root, it only grew stronger. After taking one step back, he couldn’t resist and stepped forward again, gently gripping the book by both sides and slowly lifting it.

He expected to see a handsome face, sound asleep and silly-looking, perfect for snapping a photo and teasing Ling Lie later. But he miscalculated—

The face under the book was indeed handsome, but Ling Lie’s eyes were open—and he was grinning right at him.

“Hehe!”

“!”

Startled, Ji Chenjiao’s hand jerked, slapping the book back down onto his face.

Ling Lie pushed the book aside and sat up. “Hahaha, Captain Ji, what were you doing just now? Trying to do something naughty?”

Ji Chenjiao, caught red-handed, turned and strode to the bedroom to change. Ling Lie followed barefoot. “You stood next to the sofa for a full five minutes, you know!”

Ji Chenjiao growled, “And how would you know?”

“Of course I know. I can count the seconds!”

“…” Ji Chenjiao spun around and shoved him out of the room, resting his hand on the doorframe. “What, you want to watch me change clothes?”

“We’re both guys—what’s the problem?”

“I’ve got a problem!” Ji Chenjiao slammed the door shut, nearly hitting Ling Lie’s nose. Ling Lie just laughed outside the door. “Coward!”

Ji Chenjiao didn’t open the door immediately after changing. He sat by the window for a moment, collecting himself. What the hell was he doing just now? Why did he feel this need to see Ling Lie’s face? That bastard could hear the slightest noise—any funny business would definitely get noticed!

He rubbed his face and muttered, “What’s so great about that damn face anyway…”

“Wow! Captain Ji! You bought me chicken wings!” came Ling Lie’s delighted voice from outside the door.

His joy seemed to seep through the door, and Ji Chenjiao couldn’t help but curl his lips in a smile.

On the dining table, the tomato beef stew was steaming hot. The broth was thick and rich, fully drawing out the beef’s flavor. On either side of the pot sat the McDonald’s meal—which seemed dull and cheap by comparison.

Ji Chenjiao once again regretted buying McDonald’s. It felt like an elementary school picnic, where everyone opened their lunchboxes full of delicious treats, and all he had was plain white rice.

Even little kids knew that was embarrassing.

But Ling Lie seemed totally oblivious to the difference between McDonald’s and the beef stew—he ate happily.

Watching him eat, Ji Chenjiao felt his mood inexplicably lighten. The word “A’Dou” was right on the tip of his tongue.

But Ling Lie and A’Dou were far too different. A’Dou had been timid and small, his eyes full of wariness and fear, looking several years younger than him.

Ling Lie was the same age, a bit shorter than him, but still over 1.8 meters tall. Bold, brash, and infuriating.

After much thought, Ji Chenjiao swallowed the word “A’Dou” and instead asked, “That young master who gave you the chicken wings—what did he look like?”

Ling Lie set down his burger, eyes bright. “Oh, he was the most beautiful boy in the whole world.”

“…”

“He wore such clean clothes, his hair was clean, his face and hands were all white and spotless, not a speck of dust on him. His eyes were like jewels—the rarest, most precious kind.”

Not me, Ji Chenjiao thought with some frustration. “How do you know he was a young master?”

“Because you could tell from his clothes—they looked so, so expensive. And he was so good-looking. If he had done commercials back then, all the child stars would’ve been out of a job. He was polite, too. He smiled at me, such a gentle smile.”

Gentle. That made it even more impossible for it to have been him. Ji Chenjiao suddenly felt childish. McDonald’s was everywhere. Little kids sharing chicken wings were everywhere. Why had he thought this annoying bastard could be A’Dou? There were no such coincidences in the world. He hadn’t even known Ling Lie’s nickname was A’Dou until recently.

This brat wasn’t done, either—praising that young master and turning right around to mock him, jabbing with his chopsticks. “Some people, just getting them to smile gently is like asking for their life!”

Ji Chenjiao snapped, “whose life?”

Ling Lie grinned. “Huh? Did I say who?”

After dinner, they each tidied up. Ji Chenjiao took out the trash and, when he came back, no longer cared about A’Dou or young masters. That afternoon he’d gone over the case with the team in the conference room; now he could review it again with Ling Lie. After all, Ling Lie had been part of the investigation, and his ideas were sharper than the team’s.

“Blood ties are like religion,” Ling Lie said.

Ji Chenjiao didn’t get it at first. “Why?”

Ling Lie sat sprawled on the sofa, legs propped against the wall again. “Don’t you think? When they lead to good, they’re like prayer and salvation. When they lead to evil—they’re a curse.”

Ji Chenjiao gave him a slap, making him grab his reddened ankle and blow on it, grumbling, “My feet are clean…”

The sight made Ji Chenjiao laugh. He didn’t bother scolding him anymore. “You mean He Lin’s death became a curse Jiang Meng couldn’t shake. And Luo Wanwan’s death became a curse that pushed Long Shasha toward evil?”

“Mm. Outsiders can’t understand that madness. Jiang Meng barely lived with He Lin—so why spend so many years, even ruining his own life, to avenge the sister their parents abandoned? Long Shasha and Luo Wanwan were just cousins, and hadn’t lived together as long as she had with Ou Hong—yet the moment she found out Ou Hong killed Luo Wanwan, she wanted to murder her. Why? The only explanation is that blood ties, like religion, drive people to madness.”

Ji Chenjiao fell silent. “These examples only show the dark side of blood ties.”

“Because in this world, goodness is rare,” Ling Lie said sharply, eyes flashing like he saw through everything. “Evil is easier than good. Curses take hold more easily than prayers.”

Ji Chenjiao suddenly asked, “And what about your blood ties?”

Ling Lie’s swinging legs froze. They slipped off the wall and almost hit Ji Chenjiao.

“Me? I’m a person with no blood ties.”

“What do you mean?”

Ji Chenjiao had read Ling Lie’s file many times—he had crossed the border with his parents as a child, but they died. Finding life abroad too hard, he returned to Xiarong City to make a living.

But although Xie Qing didn’t say it directly, his attitude already made it clear—the information was probably fake, just one of the identities Ling Lie had forged for a mission.

“In other words, I don’t even know where my bloodline comes from.”
Ling Lie’s answer was vague and confusing, but strangely, Ji Chenjiao felt a sense of familiarity.

Because he himself didn’t know where his bloodline came from either.

His memories before arriving at the Linglanxiang Welfare Home were very blurry, though they shouldn’t have been—he was already old enough to remember things. But the only time he could clearly recall was his days in Linglanxiang. Just like Ling Lie said, he had no origin. Since he didn’t know who his parents were, he had no ties to any bloodline—whether prayers or curses stemming from blood ties, none of them could take effect on him.

What influenced him far more than blood was his adoptive parents.

At the thought of them, Ji Chenjiao frowned slightly.

Ling Lie tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”

Ji Chenjiao came back to his senses. “Nothing. Just thinking about the next step in the investigation. Consultant, do you have any suggestions?”

Ling Lie laughed so hard he almost fell over. “When did this suspect get promoted to consultant?”

Ji Chenjiao cleared his throat. “Didn’t Captain Xie officially give you special permission?”

“Then I’m still not a consultant. I’m just a pitiful little plug-in with no salary.”

“…”

Ling Lie laughed again. Ji Chenjiao stared at him. He was always laughing, like a weeble that could never be knocked down, carefree and trouble-free.

“Back to business.” Ji Chenjiao tapped the “weeble” on the forehead.

Only then did Ling Lie sit up properly. “If I were the murderer, unless Kang Wanbin had some connection to crayfish, I wouldn’t have drowned him in the crayfish farm lake.”

“Why?”

“Because that many crayfish… it’s just wrong to ruin them!”

“… … … … … …”

Ling Lie’s words sounded ridiculous at first, but on second thought, there was some truth to them. It wasn’t about the killer’s morals, but the fact that choosing the crayfish lake itself carried a certain symbolism.

At first, this symbolism wasn’t obvious because the investigation into Kang Wanbin’s relationships wasn’t complete. But now that the list had been ruled out and the suspect was still in hiding, they had to reconsider the meaning of the crayfish.

Why did it have to be the crayfish farm lake?

If the killer wanted Kang Wanbin to drown, Fengyi Mountain Villa also had hot springs and fishing ponds.

As Ji Chenjiao pondered, another suspicious point came to mind about the crayfish—the murderer had chopped off Kang Wanbin’s hand and stuck it on the Crayfish Shell Hill. What did this piece of “performance art” represent?

At the start of the investigation, the Major Crimes Unit thought the killer was showing off while also making sure the guests quickly discovered something was wrong. After all, the farm lake was some distance from the living area. Since Kang Wanbin had just died, the body wouldn’t float up immediately. Even if the farmers went to catch crayfish, they might not notice a corpse at the bottom of the lake.

But what if the key point wasn’t the act of severing the hand, but Crayfish Shell Hill itself?

Kang Wanbin’s incomplete body rested at the lake bottom, his severed hand displayed on Crayfish Shell Hill. The crayfish might be the true symbol of the killer’s emotions.

Ling Lie said, “Could the killer be a crayfish spirit? Their whole family was eaten by Kang Wanbin, so they turned into a human to get revenge?”

“… …”
There he went again, talking nonsense.