The first thing the eighty-year-old woman did after shakily rising from her chair was to boil a pot of water for them.
In the dimly lit room, the two sat on a long bench before the only square table, accepting the cups of water handed to them by the old woman with both hands. The old woman then sat down, her lips parting and closing a few times without a sound. Her eyes, hidden beneath drooping eyelids, looked over with hesitant anticipation, hoping to receive good news about her son’s case from them.
It was a natural expectation.
But they were destined to disappoint her. They were here to discuss not her son’s case, but another one.
The cup in his hands began to feel hot and heavy.
Ji Xun realized it was because he sympathized with the old woman and felt a sense of responsibility.
It was laughable.
He detachedly evaluated his own state of mind.
He had indeed once told Yuan Yue that they would investigate this case together, and he had indeed pushed it off again and again due to various life events, until he resigned from the police force.
I am no longer a police officer.
I have no need to handle this case anymore, no need to handle any case.
More police officers will do these things in my place. The earth will not stop spinning because of anyone’s disappearance.
But the pressure grew heavier. A mountain landed on his shoulders, a sea drowned his throat.
Ji Xun thought of the case file he had read when he first learned about this case.
Cold case file, cold words, cold photos, everything was cold, because these were all dead things, the remains left by a wronged soul.
Only one thing in it came to life.
Wang Caixia, Tang Zhixue’s mother.
A brief, lightly written record in the file, not very important. He had skimmed over it in a glance, easily skipping past it. But today, right now, it had transformed into the old woman sitting before him.
A living, breathing old woman of flesh and blood, waiting for the case to be solved with her very life.
She sat there, just waiting quietly, but her figure was like an invisible sharp sword plunging into Ji Xun’s heart, tearing to shreds the accustomed calmness he had developed from facing murder cases for so long, leaving only the flow of warm blood.
That heat circulated wantonly through his body, and everywhere it went, he felt a burning shame.
He, a former police officer, had so easily made a promise, yet had not fulfilled it.
Ji Xun’s hands were trembling slightly. He felt his throat and tongue part slightly, wanting to say something. He actually knew what to say. They shouldn’t let the old woman sit there in silent, meaningless speculation.
He should act like a police officer, state their purpose, comfort the victim’s family, and then do everything in his power to solve the case, to let the wronged soul rest in peace and let justice be served.
He could no longer say such simple words.
A giant boulder had long since blocked his throat, and over the years, it had not loosened.
At that moment, a hand reached out from the side.
Huo Ranyin’s hand pressed on the rim of the cup and on his own hands. This steady palm stilled the slight tremor in Ji Xun’s hands, then firmly took the cup from Ji Xun and placed it aside.
“The water is too hot, let it cool for a bit.”
Huo Ranyin then turned to the old woman. “Ma’am, it’s like this. We have a case on our hands, and someone in it knew your son. We’d like to ask you a little about him, if that’s convenient?”
A breeze blew past.
The flame of hope in the old woman’s eyes flickered, like a bean-sized candlelight in the deep night blown by a cold wind. The flame nearly went out several times, but after the wind passed, it stubbornly rekindled.
“Of course, of course…” the old woman agreed. “Who do you want to know about?”
“Xin Yongchu, do you know him? He’s forty-two this year, twenty at the time. He and your son should have had a very good relationship.”
A trace of confusion flashed in the old woman’s eyes. She pondered for a long time, slowly retrieving the memory.
“Is it that… that kid who could run really well?”
Along with this peculiar adjective, the old woman stood up and rummaged out a thick book from the corner of her bed.
The book was brought before the two of them. Ji Xun opened it and was surprised to find it was a photo album, filled with black-and-white photos of Accountant Tang with various different children.
The old woman said, “My son and daughter-in-law had bad luck. They had a boy, but he was mischievous and drowned while playing in the reservoir at the age of twelve. But life had to go on, so he gradually transferred his affection to the other children in the county. The county was poor back then, and people didn’t care much about studying. Many of the poor ones dropped out of school. He thought that wouldn’t do, how could children not study? So he used his money to help these children. Most of the children in these photos were helped by him… The Xin Yongchu you mentioned should be this one.”
The old woman’s finger pointed to a photograph.
At first glance, Ji Xun could hardly equate the photo with reality.
The Xin Yongchu of the past was still young, with a shaved head that left only a layer of bluish stubble. One hand was in his pocket, and he leaned against a wall, standing loosely. He was even unhappy about Tang Zhixue’s hand on his shoulder, turning his face away, his eyes looking to the side, leaving only a sliver of a sidelong glance for the camera. And in that glance, it was all rebellious untamability.
The young Xin Yongchu was surprising.
But upon careful thought, there was a thread connecting the past and the present. In the past, Xin Yongchu’s rebellion and sharpness were written all over his face. Now, these things had not disappeared but had seeped into his bones and blood, becoming a destructive hatred.
“Xin Yongchu’s family situation was not good,” the old woman said, a bit rambling. “He was an illegitimate child and never knew his father since he was young. Later, when he was 14, his mother remarried. A half-grown boy of 14, hard to raise. He still had to go to high school and university, and get a wife in the future. What man has that much money to waste? So he wasn’t well-liked. He had a stubborn temper too, so he simply ran away from school to the streets, mixing with those unsavory people, becoming a thief. He stole from my son.”
“My son chased him, chasing him all the way, and he just kept running. Both of them were stubborn, and they ran around most of the county town.”
The two listened quietly.
Tang Zhixue was unable to catch up with Xin Yongchu and get his wallet back.
Xin Yongchu ran too fast. The 14-year-old boy’s legs seemed to be equipped with a motor, able to run forward tirelessly and swiftly. But that wasn’t the end. One day later, in a small alley on his way home, Tang Zhixue saw the boy again.
At that time, Xin Yongchu was lying on the ground, his face bruised and swollen.
It was said that he had stolen from the leader of another gang, so his own gang abandoned him. He was beaten severely and then left there like a stray dog.
Tang Zhixue felt a pang of compassion and took the boy home, applied medicine for him, and had dinner with him. He let Xin Yongchu rest at his home for two days, but early the next morning, Xin Yongchu had already disappeared. Three or five days later, when he opened his door, he saw a fruit basket placed at the entrance.
He looked left and right and saw a fleeting corner of clothing in the corner of the alley.
He was familiar with that piece of clothing; the patch on the torn part was sewn by his own wife.
Xin Yongchu was only 14. A 14-year-old child still had a high sense of self-esteem and a simple moral code. He could roam the streets with gangsters, stealing and robbing, and he considered them his brothers. He would also repay Tang Zhixue’s kindness for saving him, and he also felt this was as it should be.
This was not a thoroughly bad child.
After inquiring about Xin Yongchu’s situation, Tang Zhixue spent a few more days in the streets and alleys and found him.
This time, he directly asked Xin Yongchu, “Are you willing to live with me?”
…
Xin Yongchu came to Tang Zhixue’s home. The couple had lost their son, and whether it was towards Xin Yongchu or the other children Tang Zhixue supported, they had the patience and care as if for their own beloved son.
Xin Yongchu lived with Tang Zhixue and received the most patience and care.
Tang Zhixue paid Xin Yongchu’s tuition and sent him back to school. Xin Yongchu was unwilling. His grades were poor; going back to school was meaningless and had no future. Wasting time was not as good as going to work.
This was an objective fact.
It was indeed difficult for Xin Yongchu to get good results in the subsequent high school entrance exam.
Tang Zhixue visited the school for several days, asking Xin Yongchu’s homeroom teacher and several other teachers, and finally came up with a solution.
He had witnessed Xin Yongchu’s running speed and decided to guide him towards becoming a sports student.
No matter what, he had to go to school, keep studying, study his way out, learn his way out, run his way to a future.
From 14 to 15, from 15 to 18.
Every morning before others got up, Tang Zhixue would call Xin Yongchu out to practice running. Every afternoon after others finished school and work and were resting, Tang Zhixue would also call Xin Yongchu out to practice running.
For four whole years, Tang Zhixue, regardless of cold or heat, consistently supervised and accompanied Xin Yongchu in his running training.
Another photo entered the eyes of Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin.
It was still a black-and-white photo.
In the photo, it must have been sunset. The sun had half-disappeared below the distant horizon. Tang Zhixue had a whistle in his mouth, one arm raised high with his hand clenched into a fist. His eyes were fixed on Xin Yongchu, his side turned to the camera. Xin Yongchu was running in front, his arms raised, his thighs lifted high, sweat rolling and splashing on the developed leg muscles from his running practice.
Outside the window, it was also time for the golden crow to set in the west.
The sky turned red, and the red light dyed Ji Xun’s fingers holding the photo, and at the same time, it dyed the black-and-white photo. The bland black and white began to timidly retreat, and the golden light ignited the photo like a fire. Everything became vivid and real:
Amidst Tang Zhixue’s loud whistle and loud urging, on days when the setting sun burned like a flame.
Xin Yongchu ran with his head down.
Every drop of sweat that splashed from his body met the sunlight and glinted with a petal of a crystal-bright rainbow.
The rainbow arched him forward.
Work hard, work hard, work even harder, the future is at the finish line of your track.
“He ran his way into a top high school, and then into university,” the old woman said. “He didn’t forget this place after going to university and often wrote back. Later, when my son was killed, most of these children he had sponsored came over. They were all very sad. He also cried his heart out. But after that day…”
The old woman tried hard to remember.
“I never saw him again, nor did I hear anyone say they had seen him. It seems he never came back to this county. How is he now?”
That was the general story of Xin Yongchu. As they were about to finish, Ji Xun asked an extra question, “Ma’am, do you know someone named Lian Dazhang?”
“I know him. The police didn’t catch anyone back then, so the case was shelved. His mother kept saying how capable her son was and how he cared about the county and could help. We thought we’d try anything, find a lawyer, see if he could help in any way… but he never even saw us.”
The old woman lowered her head. Lian Dazhang’s reputation here was much greater than Ji Xun had thought.
“Later I thought about it, maybe he didn’t like our family very much,” the old woman said. “Little Xin was a terror back then, loitering around at school too. I heard he even hit Lawyer Lian. Maybe it’s because of that.”
This intersection was a surprise to Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin.
But with this past, the possibility of targeted poisoning became even higher.
The two said goodbye to the old woman.
The old woman stood up to see them off, all the way to the door. Finally, she steadied herself with a hand on the doorframe, her flesh loose on her bones, hesitating to speak.
She wanted to ask about her son’s case. Her son’s case was the heavy stone hanging over her heart.
She was still looking at them with hope, and so that heavy stone, following her hope, appeared on Ji Xun, pressing him into a thin sheet of paper.
He couldn’t breathe, nor could he look away.
Hope is sometimes a four-walled, airtight cage that traps a person inside. But as long as he could make a promise, he could open a window from within for a breath of air.
He had always known how to save himself—but he couldn’t do it, had never been able to.
Because he no longer believed in himself.
Until Huo Ranyin turned back, stood in front of him, and said the words he wanted to say but could no longer bring himself to say.
Huo Ranyin lowered his head at that moment. His dark pupils carried the gentleness of the night, bringing a peace that lulled one to sleep. He promised, “Rest assured, your son’s case is being investigated. We will not let the murderer get away with it. We will catch the murderer. You must take good care of yourself and wait for us to bring back the answer.”
The old woman smiled.
The gloom and worry on her face were swept away. All she wanted was a promise from the police. It had been like this for 22 years. A promise was enough to let her live on full of hope.
“Alright, alright, take care on your way out. I’ll wait here for you to come back.”
Air suddenly rushed in, relieving his constricted heart and lungs. Ji Xun let out a long breath.
It was a field of reeds on the way in, and on the way out, they still had to pass through the fluffy reeds that swayed incessantly like a dog’s tail.
The two returned to the car. The person in the driver’s seat had switched to Huo Ranyin. As Huo Ranyin was pulling the seatbelt, Ji Xun spoke:
“Police officer little brother.”
“Don’t call me little brother,” Huo Ranyin said coolly as he lowered his head to start the car. “I don’t want to be your little brother.”
“You were really handsome today,” Ji Xun said, smiling at him.
Huo Ranyin’s finger, turning the ignition, used too much force, and the key slipped from the keyhole.
He bent down to pick up the key. His lips pursed, hiding a trace of embarrassment and shyness in the corner of his mouth. Then the corners of his mouth lifted, revealing a hint of accidentally leaked pride and excitement.
Ji Xun, who had just leaned over to help Huo Ranyin, saw this rare scene and raised an eyebrow. “So you like it when I praise you?”
“It’s not about liking it or not.”
Huo Ranyin immediately became serious. He looked straight ahead, his face impassive, and finally emphasized, as if nonchalantly:
“Also, what I said just now was ‘we’.”
We will promise together, and solve the case together.
