The name echoed in Ji Xun’s mind, like a heavy, sonorous note dropped from the sky, sinking to the depths, then stretched taut.
The heavy, sorrowful resonance pressed firmly against his chest. After a brief stagnation, Ji Xun glanced at Huo Ranyin. The daylight filtered through the window bars, casting obscure, checkered shadows across Huo Ranyin’s cheeks. These shadows were like a living grey film, rising and falling with the rhythm of Huo Ranyin’s breath.
“This is just speculative reasoning; it lacks concrete evidence,” Ji Xun said, breaking the air that had grown so thick it felt heavy. “We can’t draw a definitive conclusion from this alone…”
“Mm,” Huo Ranyin replied softly.
The criminal investigation captain looked down at the photo album. His fingers pressed against the redacted text, but his gaze grew distant. He seemed to be reminiscing… but what could he be remembering? Was he remembering that corpse currently lying in the forensic examination room at the Qin City Police Station?
That bloated, brown-skinned, lifeless torso, locked away inside a clay sculpture for nearly twenty years? Was that the source of his own bloodline, the father who gave him life?
“There is a way,” Huo Ranyin suddenly said.
“There’s really no rush—” Ji Xun tried to interrupt.
“There is a way,” Huo Ranyin continued. His voice wasn’t harsh or sharp, but the persistence within his calmness revealed his coldness and composure. “There is a shortcut. If I want to know the thread of this case—if I want to know whether Wen Chenghu is truly my father—a paternity test will suffice.”
“But Wen Chenghu is dead,” Ji Xun sighed. “It’s not easy to extract viable cells from a corpse, and the body is sealed as police evidence. You wouldn’t violate your own principles and steal evidence just for this, would you?”
He said this intentionally. He believed in Huo Ranyin’s integrity; no matter how desperate he was for the truth, he would not resort to illegal means.
Huo Ranyin looked at Ji Xun. He offered a slight smile, as carved from ice, laced with a trace of irony.
“Ji Xun, the Y chromosome from the paternal line is constant. If Wen Chenghu and I are father and son, then my Y chromosome must be identical to those of Wen Chenghu’s brothers. This would prove I am a member of that family, and by extension, it would prove my actual biological relationship with Wen Chenghu.” Huo Ranyin asked, “Is this common knowledge you really don’t possess?”
“People are often happier when they know a little less,” Ji Xun said.
“But compared to happiness, I prefer the truth,” Huo Ranyin replied.
“It really is you,” Ji Xun sighed.
What else could he do? This was Huo Ranyin. When he wanted the truth, he would always find a way. This matter didn’t need to involve the police bureau or Zhao Wu; Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin could handle it easily themselves. The first step was to call Wen Meihua.
During her statement yesterday, Wen Meihua had mentioned a key piece of information: “His younger brother lived with him for a while.” This brother didn’t refer to Wen Chenghu’s elder brother, Wen Chenglong, but the youngest of the Wen family, Wen Chengbao. To learn more about Wen Chenghu after all these years, finding Wen Chengbao was likely the best choice.
Contacting Wen Chengbao came with an obvious pretext: they were following up on the Wen Chenghu case.
“You already asked everything this morning, why come again?” Wen Chengbao asked when he opened the door for Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin, his face full of intense confusion.
Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin scrutinized the man. He lived quite comfortably. The apartment was in a nice residential area, and the decor showed a certain level of status. Correspondingly, his physique had also developed in a “comfortable” horizontal direction—from shoulders to legs, devoid of any definition in the chest, waist, or hips. He looked like a long, straight rectangle topped with a sphere for a head, carrying a peculiar, lively sort of absurdity.
“We are from the Provincial Bureau’s special investigation team,” Ji Xun fabricated a reason on the spot. “The case hit the news, and the social impact is egregious. Our superiors have ordered a time-limited breakthrough. It won’t just be us; others will come to question you again in the coming days.”
Wen Chengbao’s suspicion vanished upon hearing this. After checking Huo Ranyin’s police badge, he had no further questions. “My brother, he was truly pathetic…” he sighed, inviting them into the living room for tea.
Huo Ranyin’s expression remained indifferent; he refused the tea, his eyes fixed firmly on Wen Chengbao’s face.
It was truly an unremarkable face. Beneath thick, heavy brows sat wide-set, frog-like eyes; below that, a flat nose and thick, liver-colored lips. His skin was pale—a pasty, greasy white that made one think of the fatty layers of pork belly.
Brothers usually share some resemblance. Wen Chengbao’s contours were vaguely similar to the corpse in the forensic lab. After staring for a long time, it felt almost as if that corpse had resurrected and was living inside Wen Chengbao.
Pale. Skin tone. Was skin tone a dominant or recessive gene? He had likely learned this in middle school biology, but he couldn’t recall it now. Was it forgotten? Perhaps not. It was fear-induced anxiety triggering a cerebral alarm, causing the door to the palace of memory to be gently shuttered, pointlessly delaying time…
“Oh, excuse me,” Ji Xun suddenly said.
“No problem,” Wen Chengbao replied.
Huo Ranyin’s eyelashes flickered. His gaze shifted from Wen Chengbao’s face to Ji Xun. Ji Xun had just eaten two candies from the table and was tossing the wrappers into the trash. The bin was on the right side of the coffee table, but he was sitting on the left. He had to stand up and walk a few steps to reach it, and while doing so, he bumped into Wen Chengbao, who was leaning back on the sofa…
He had done it on purpose. In that instant, Ji Xun had plucked two hairs from Wen Chengbao’s head.
Huo Ranyin remained silent.
Ji Xun took the hairs and sat back down. Although the purpose of the trip was achieved, he didn’t rush to leave. He continued to sit opposite Wen Chengbao, chatting about Wen Chenghu. When Ji Xun asked if he had noticed anything unusual during the time he lived with Wen Chenghu, Wen Chengbao sat for a moment, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one for himself, and offered them to Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin.
Both declined. Wen Chengbao took a deep drag, his expression fluctuating. “Actually… there is something I didn’t tell the police before. Now that I see how much you police prioritize this, I think I should say it.”
They both froze.
“I suspect my brother might have been doing something illegal in private.”
“…How so?” Ji Xun asked.
“I lived in a three-bedroom apartment with my brother. He lived in the master bedroom, I in the guest room. I was a broke kid back then, struggling, and I didn’t want to freeload, so I often cleaned the place. One day, I lifted the bed frame to clean underneath and found…”
“Bundles of hundred-yuan bills! Twenty-three bundles!” Wen Chengbao said viciously. Twenty years had passed, but he still remembered the scene so clearly, showing the shock it had caused. “That was the nineties! Being a ‘ten-thousand-yuan household’ was a big deal. A house in Beijing cost only two hundred thousand or so. I wondered where my brother got so much money. If he had this much, why not use it for something else? Why hide it under the bed? It couldn’t have been from the convenience store he ran—he ran that store for a long time, but whatever money he made should have gone toward buying the house he lived in back then! Then…”
“Did you ask your brother?” Ji Xun interrupted.
“No, I didn’t dare. But I started watching his tracks. Later, I found…” Wen Chengbao looked perplexed. “One night, my brother took all the money from under the bed and gave it to someone. That person didn’t seem to want it at first and pushed back, but my brother was very determined. He stuffed all the money into the other person’s arms. The way he acted, it didn’t look like he was handing over a bag of money—it looked like he was handing over a bag of stones!”
“Who was that person?” Huo Ranyin pressed.
It was the first time he had spoken since entering, his voice like a thin, sharp blade suddenly flying out.
“I couldn’t see his face. It was too dark, no streetlights, and the person was standing in the shadows, completely invisible… That’s why I didn’t mention it to the police earlier, because I couldn’t explain it clearly. Now that I’ve said it, is it helpful to you?”
Of course, it was helpful. Saying something was better than saying nothing. Moreover, according to their deductions, Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin held another crucial clue: Huo Ranyin’s mother had been raped by two men. Even if Wen Chenghu was one of the rapists, he was only one of them… Where was the other rapist? Had Xu Chengzhang found him? And who was the person to whom Wen Chenghu gave that massive sum of money?
The visit had revealed more information but also birthed more questions.
As they left, Ji Xun swiped a cigarette butt Wen Chengbao had discarded. It contained residual saliva, a backup in case the DNA from the hair failed. The two went straight to a designated testing facility in Qin City, submitted the samples, and waited.
With DNA technology becoming increasingly sophisticated, they didn’t have to wait ten days; with expedited service, results would be ready in a few hours.
Huo Ranyin sat in the hospital corridor’s rest area, staring at the window. Outside, the flow of people moved hastily, appearing only as blurred colors on his retina. Ji Xun didn’t try to engage him; clearly, Huo Ranyin neither wanted to speak nor eat, and he likely didn’t need anyone’s comfort. When a man is comforted, he often feels forced to feign strength. This disingenuous facade is even more exhausting.
Giving him a quiet, independent space was better.
In the mutual silence, time flowed quietly… Then, a doctor from the facility suddenly approached with a report. Ji Xun stood up immediately, stepped forward, and took the comparison report of the Y chromosome between Huo Ranyin and Wen Chengbao.
He read the report and then met Huo Ranyin’s expectant gaze.
“Your Y chromosomes…”
Ji Xun delivered the answer:
“Do not match.”
