Amid the surge of public opinion, people instinctively connected the child disappearance case at Moonflower Kindergarten with the Xiayang Road murder case. Various new media outlets and influencers rushed to offer their own analyses. The police couldn’t possibly block every curious gaze—streamers and journalists always had some way to craft shocking, attention-grabbing narratives.

The Huang Xuntong case was already shrouded in mystery—clues seemed to be everywhere, yet something vital was always missing. As public speculation continued to snowball, it began interfering with the criminal investigation. Xie Qing, head of the criminal investigation division, even came to ask Ji Chenjiao what was going on.

Ji Chenjiao had no choice but to divert some attention to the Moonflower case.

Zhou Zongyi, six years old, was in the senior class and a natural leader among his peers—very lively and active, with a strong sense of justice. If he saw a weaker child being bullied, he’d definitely step in to help.

His way of helping? Punching the bully. At both his kindergarten and the neighborhood he lived in—Huaxiaoting—there were naughty kids who had taken a beating from him.

He was also athletic and loved playing basketball. Even at such a young age, he already knew how to shoot.

The kindergarten spoke highly of him. Even boys who had been hit by him pitifully said they hoped he would come back safe and sound.

Zhou Zongyi was the second child in his family. He had an older brother in elementary school. Their parents, Zhou Lin and Fu Jiajia, were both regular sales workers—busy and under a lot of pressure. It had taken them two years to save enough money to buy their current two-bedroom apartment.

Because they didn’t have time to care for their children, they brought their mother from the countryside to help.

Five people in one household lived under modest conditions. The two boys shared a room, the parents had one, and the elderly grandmother volunteered to sleep in the living room. She said she didn’t sleep much at her age and didn’t want to disturb the others in the bedroom by waking up early.

Though life wasn’t easy, at least they had a home of their own. Zhou Lin and Fu Jiajia couldn’t afford a top-tier kindergarten, but a colleague recommended Moonflower for its low fees and proximity to their neighborhood. It felt safe enough, so they enrolled Zhou Zongyi there.

The couple couldn’t understand—everything had been fine for years, and they’d never heard of anything bad happening at Moonflower. How had misfortune suddenly landed on them?

Zhou Zongyi disappeared sometime between 3 p.m. and 5 p.m. on April 7th. Moonflower Kindergarten was built inside a residential compound and had two gates—one facing outward, one facing inward. The main gate had surveillance and a guard and was only opened at pickup time. Everything was fairly regulated.

However, the back gate opened into the neighborhood. Many kids lived there, and over time, the back gate was rarely closed. Even when its surveillance system broke down, it wasn’t fixed promptly.

Surveillance footage from that afternoon showed Zhou Zongyi after nap time, fighting over the rocking horse with a classmate. Later, he was seen walking alone toward the backyard—an area without surveillance.

The back gate was not far from the backyard.

He never reappeared on any camera.

When the teachers gathered the children after the game session and returned them to class, they noticed Zhou Zongyi was nowhere to be found.

What could be confirmed was that Zhou Zongyi definitely exited via the back gate. The local police and district bureau had already pulled all available security footage from the neighborhood. Unfortunately, the camera system was outdated and full of blind spots. Many cameras were broken, and even the supposedly secured gates had no real supervision.

The police couldn’t find any trace of Zhou Zongyi—or of any suspicious person.

As for witnesses, the kindergarten and the apartment buildings were separated by a patch of greenery. Although people passed through there in the evenings, during the afternoon it was usually empty. After canvassing the area, no one reported seeing Zhou Zongyi leaving.

If it hadn’t been for someone exposing that the Xiayang Road murder suspect, a man named Ling Lei, was a volunteer at Moonflower, this would’ve been treated as a regular missing child case.

But Zhou Zongyi was only six. There was no way he could’ve deliberately avoided every camera on his own. Someone had to have carefully planned and led him away along a predetermined route.

In cases involving children, the district bureau had solid investigative experience. They usually started by looking into the parents’ relationships. The Zhou family was of modest means. Blackmail was highly unlikely. It was probably a personal grudge. Solving the case shouldn’t have been too hard.

But now, it was obvious someone was intentionally stirring up trouble. Online chatter and condemnation were nonstop. Not only was it creating immense pressure for the police, it could also agitate the kidnapper.

In many cases, the kidnapper didn’t initially intend to kill. It was the relentless online hype, fueled by people who didn’t know the full story, that pushed things into tragedy.

Ji Chenjiao rubbed his temples, then opened a few livestreams and news accounts. With streamers and reporters adding fuel to the fire, even more “inside information” was being dug up. On the internet, Ling Lie had practically been sentenced to death already.

One streamer interviewed a Moonflower volunteer who confidently claimed that Ling Lie and Zhou Zongyi had always had a poor relationship. The issue? They played “gun battles” using finger guns. One person would pretend to shoot, and the other would fall down.

Whenever Zhou Zongyi “shot” Ling Lie, Ling Lie wouldn’t fall. This made Zhou Zongyi mad. Eventually, Ling Lie stopped letting him join the game.

One journalist spent the afternoon at Xiayang Road chatting with Wang Lifen. Talkative and expressive, she passionately complained that her neighbor Ling Lie had once frightened her grandson and refused to give him chicken wings. “Most adults give snacks to kids, right? But he just glared and ignored my grandson. That’s someone with no heart! I’m telling you, he definitely has problems. No love for children—what’s he doing volunteering at a kindergarten?”

That interview was the most widely circulated report. First, because Wang Lifen was the one who originally reported Ling Lie to the police—her words carried weight. Second, because the journalist’s writing was excellent, especially the details that resonated deeply with gossip-hungry readers.

Ji Chenjiao glanced at the byline: Li Aijie, from Rongxing Media.

He casually looked them up. Rongxing was a new media outlet that focused on trending social topics. Li Aijie was one of their star reporters. Several of her articles had gone viral—covering everything from bar nightlife to modern neighborhood dynamics.

Rongxing didn’t appear to have any direct connection to the case. They just had sharp instincts and chased whatever caught the public’s attention.

As he refreshed the page, new voices began to emerge online.

A well-dressed streamer stood solemnly at the gate of Moonflower, speaking in a polished broadcast voice:
“Parents send their beloved children to kindergartens because they trust that the school will take care of them during the day. While we condemn the kidnapper and demand justice, today Jaco wants to explore a different angle—should the kindergarten really be free of responsibility?”

In the video, the man was a tall, mixed-race young influencer with slightly long hair and good looks. Judging from the engagement, he was quite a popular host.

“Ling Lie isn’t even qualified to work in this field. He’s not a teacher. So, don’t you want to know how he got a job at a kindergarten in the first place? Jaco discovered that Moonflower, in order to save on proper teaching staff, hired a bunch of volunteers instead!”

“Volunteers don’t need professional qualifications, they don’t need to show up every day—just two or three times a week, with meals included. Their pay is calculated by the number of shifts, and they’re way cheaper than certified teachers! Jaco isn’t against kindergartens hiring volunteers, but can we at least do a background check before letting them in? This person, Ling Lie, didn’t get along with neighbors and had no love for children—how did someone like him even get in?”

The moment this video was released, it reignited the public debate. With the flames now licking at Moonflower Kindergarten, the principal immediately issued an apology and terminated all collaborations with volunteers.

Shen Qi had already identified the original whistleblower—just as Ji Chenjiao had suspected—it was an employee at Moonflower named Pan You, male, twenty-two years old.

But now, thanks to the media frenzy, Pan You couldn’t continue as a volunteer.

“He’s just making things worse for us! I’m going to have a word with him!” Shen Qi fumed. He didn’t particularly care that Ling Lie was being blamed, but the chaos Pan You caused had seriously disrupted the task force’s work. He was so furious, a cold sore had broken out on his lip.

Ji Chenjiao also wanted to meet Pan You, so he brought Shen Qi along to the precinct.

Pan You looked miserable, putting on a pitiful expression. The detectives were questioning him about his background and his relationship with Ling Lie, and why he had posted that kind of video. As he spoke, he began to cry. “If I’d known I’d lose my job over this, I wouldn’t have posted it. What did I do wrong? Why should I get fired too? I’m not like him—I’ve loved kids since I was little! I’d never hurt a child!”

Standing by the wall, Ji Chenjiao observed him. When Pan You glanced at him, he visibly shrank back. A detective introduced Ji Chenjiao as the head of the major crimes unit, and Pan You immediately avoided eye contact.

Ji Chenjiao scrutinized him. He had dyed blond hair and decent looks, about on par with that internet host named Jaco.

“My grandmother lives on Xieyang Road. It didn’t take much digging to hear about the murder there. I also stream sometimes—for people like us, spotting trends is part of the job,” Pan You explained. “I went to Xieyang Road the same day to get the scoop. Found out the suspect was my colleague—Ling Lie.”

Precinct detective: “So, you’re both a streamer and a volunteer?”

Pan You rubbed his hands. “That’s not a conflict. Lots of people have side hustles. Ling Lie wasn’t just a volunteer either.”

At that moment, Ji Chenjiao finally spoke. “What’s your account handle?”

Pan You grew nervous. “You’re not gonna ban my account, are you?”

Precinct detective: “You didn’t seem this nervous about losing your job.”

“That’s different!” Pan You protested. “Volunteering barely paid anything. My account is my life! I worked so hard to build it!”

“Cut the crap,” Ji Chenjiao said. “What’s your handle?”

Reluctantly, Pan You gave him a string of characters. Ji immediately searched the account, sorting the videos by most recent and most popular. His expression grew colder with each swipe.

Though both Pan You and Jaco were streamers, their content couldn’t have been more different. Jaco’s videos were organized around different discussion topics. Pan You’s, on the other hand, were mostly about daily life at the kindergarten—kids eating, attending class, playing—without any blurring or pixelation.

He had posted other content too—travel, food, tech, and beauty reviews—clearly just chasing whatever was trending, without a clear niche. But his most-viewed videos were all from the kindergarten. Because he branded himself as a kindergarten volunteer, viewers came to him for “exclusive, insider footage.”

Ji Chenjiao looked back at him. Pan You shivered. “You—you really are going to shut down my account?”

Ji Chenjiao said coldly, “Zhou Zongyi’s disappearance has a lot to do with you.”

Pan You stammered, “That’s—that’s impossible! Why would I hurt Zhou Zongyi? It was Ling Lie who didn’t get along with him, not me!”

“I—I admit I framed Ling Lie! You already took him away, I know he couldn’t have abducted Zhou Zongyi. That’s why I didn’t dare use my real name when I exposed him.”

Pan You’s words came faster and faster, sweat rolling down his face. “I just wanted to get some traction online! I’m not popular at all, and this was a huge opportunity—if I didn’t seize it, I’d never have a shot!”

“My post didn’t even say Ling Lie kidnapped the kid, just that he was connected to the Xieyang Road murder. That’s the truth, right? I can’t control how the public connects the dots! Later, I just used my ‘volunteer’ title to give interviews and gain followers. I was about to blow up—and then you come to shut me down!”

“What, you think I staged the whole thing? I swear I didn’t! I didn’t take that kid!”

Ji Chenjiao looked at him coldly. “Had enough? You admit you exploited your identity as a volunteer. But this isn’t the first time, is it?”

Pan You froze. “What?”

Ji turned his phone around and showed Pan You his account’s homepage. Pan You still didn’t get it. “So what?”

Ji said, “Being a volunteer doesn’t pay much. Most of Moonflower’s volunteers are local aunties from the community. Couldn’t you find another job? Why volunteer?”

Pan You opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Ji continued, “Because you needed that title. Without it, your videos wouldn’t get views. You used Moonflower’s resources to gain followers.”

“So what?!” Pan You shouted, growing agitated. “No one said I couldn’t! Even the principal didn’t stop me!”

Ji said, “And now the principal, Moonflower Kindergarten, and Zhou Zongyi’s entire family have paid the price. Did you ever think about who was watching your videos?”

Pan You flinched, realizing something. “You’re saying…”

“The suspect likely used your videos to learn the layout and schedule of Moonflower, then took Zhou Zongyi,” Ji Chenjiao said. “And you’re still clinging to that account?”

Pan You collapsed into the chair, face pale, unable to accept that he had brought disaster upon himself—worse yet, that he might have played a part in a crime.

Just then, He Feng, the squad leader in charge of the Zhou Zongyi case, walked over. “Captain Ji, you’re just in time. There’s something strange about this case—I could use your insight.”