But before actually leaving the police station to head over to Wang Guiyu’s place, instructions came down from above; Chen Jiashu’s case had run into a snag, and both Squad One and Squad Two were to head to the second-floor conference room for a meeting.
When the director summons, one must naturally prioritize the director’s schedule.
Moreover, Zheng Xuewang was currently meat on a chopping board; he couldn’t run away, but he wasn’t that easy to put into the pot either. It was all a matter of slow, grinding patience; rushing headlong wouldn’t yield results anyway.
The second-floor conference room was quite large, with a mahogany oval table in the center. Director Zhou sat in the host seat, with Yuan Yue and Huo Ranyin sitting just below Director Zhou at his left and right hands. Ji Xun… to be honest, Ji Xun was in a bit of a dilemma.
Although unfamiliarity turns into familiarity over time and he already considered himself an indispensable part of Squad Two during ordinary moments, at a more formal meeting hosted by the director like this, let’s put it this way: he probably shouldn’t show up, let alone take a seat.
Yet, he also wanted to hear the clues discovered from the frontlines at the earliest opportunity.
So, after following Huo Ranyin inside like a little tail, Ji Xun very self-awarely walked over to the corner and stood beside a potted parlor palm, playing the part of a competent wallflower.
Even as a wallflower, he was still rather eye-catching.
Director Zhou glared at him, but didn’t speak, nor did he tell him to get out. He simply slapped the table: “Meeting called to order.”
Yuan Yue spoke first: “I’ll give a brief report on the investigation into Chen Jiashu’s case first: The forensics department has already identified the DNA from the blood and hair left at the scene. There are five types in total, two of which are female. These two sets of DNA have already been successfully matched with the DNA on file at the police station, confirming they belong to missing persons.”
“What about the other three types?” Huo Ranyin asked.
“The remaining three types of DNA are confirmed to belong to males, but no corresponding data was found in the police system, and they do not match the DNA profiles of the boat crew captured last night. Currently, we are analyzing the footprints and fingerprints at the scene, as well as other items left behind, to see if we can find any corresponding clues.”
“As for the two missing women identified through the match, both are from Ning City, and both have been missing for over a year.” Yuan Yue continued to supplement, “Considering the lengthy duration of their disappearance and that this criminal activity involves organ replacement, Chen Jiashu must have a place where he keeps these missing persons—the abandoned factory found yesterday looks more like a temporary operating room—but Chen Jiashu is in the smuggling business, so this place might be hard to find…”
Hard to find was an understatement.
What they feared most was that this place wasn’t within the national borders at all.
Because the benefits of doing so were simply obvious: trapping people abroad first avoided the tracking of the domestic police, and second, greatly reduced the possibility of the victims escaping or contacting their families. No matter how one looked at it, it was a highly lucrative bargain.
Ji Xun’s straight posture lasted only a brief moment.
Soon he leaned back, tilting to the side, and leaned against the angle between the parlor palm and the windowsill. After a brief rustling sound, the parlor palm held its ground.
Yuan Yue continued his report: “Currently, the bodies of the missing persons have not been found, and we have not notified their relatives. However, judging from yesterday’s situation, the missing persons are likely to have met with disaster…”
This was perhaps one of the thorniest issues.
Waiting was agonizing and painful, but if they didn’t wait, they wouldn’t even have the chance to guard the remote hope brought by that agonizing wait.
The issue was brought up, but it was still glossed over lightly.
Who no one could give a choice.
Sometimes, whatever choice you made wouldn’t be the right choice.
“Aside from the conclusions drawn by the forensics department, we have currently cordoned off Chen Jiashu’s company, bringing hard drives and documents from both the company and his home back to the bureau. Colleagues from the Economic Crime Investigation Division are helping to investigate Chen Jiashu’s incoming and outgoing accounts.” Speaking up to this point, Yuan Yue paused.
He looked back; sitting behind him was the vice captain of the Economic Crime Investigation Division.
Since it was the Economic Crime Investigation Division’s responsibility, it was naturally their turn to explain.
The vice captain took over the conversation: “We investigated the financial documents of Chen Jiashu’s company and found traces of manipulation in the financial records.”
“Manipulated?” Director Zhou questioned back.
“The entries and exits don’t quite add up, with obvious signs of modification to balance the books.” The vice captain explained in plain terms, “Furthermore, based on our interrogation of the financial staff at Chen Jiashu’s company, the accounting department underwent a major rework of past accounts in January of this year under the pretext of conducting a review.”
January.
Ji Xun sharply caught this crucial timestamp.
“January was exactly when Captain Huo and Ji Xun ran into Chen Jiahe doing drugs at the KTV,” Yuan Yue chimed back in. “Right after that, Chen Jiahe hurriedly fled abroad. I suspect Chen Jiashu sensed the risk at that time and swiftly had the accounting department modify the past ledgers.”
“The timing is very clever.” Director Zhou pondered. “A father and son go to war together, brothers fight a tiger together. Chen Jiahe is likely involved in Chen Jiashu’s criminal activities and knows everything clearly. We’ve caught Chen Jiahe; have we broken him yet?”
“We’ve been pressing him continuously,” Yuan Yue said in a deep voice. “However, Chen Jiahe is stubborn and cunning. He was caught during a smuggling attempt and knew he couldn’t escape the smuggling charges, so he confessed to Chen Jiashu’s drug smuggling operations. But when asked about the kidnapping and organ trafficking, he feigned complete ignorance, putting on an innocent front and constantly protesting his innocence.”
He used the remote to turn on the projector.
On the projector screen, the footage of Chen Jiahe in the interrogation room appeared.
All at once, everyone’s eyes focused on the projector, including Ji Xun in the corner.
Ji Xun scrutinized Chen Jiahe as he appeared on the screen.
Having met him several times before and after, Chen Jiahe had never shown any qualities that would make someone look at him with new respect. In Ji Xun’s personal view, he was merely someone with all the common ailments of a wealthy playboy—bold and reckless before trouble hit, completely useless once it did.
This impression matched Chen Jiahe’s current appearance perfectly.
In the footage, Chen Jiahe’s eyes were bloodshot as he yelled and screamed. The bleached blonde hair on his head puffed up and fell with his shouting, looking almost like a patch of withered grass. Corresponding to his exaggerated facial expressions were his hands and feet.
The chairs in the interrogation room had built-in restraints, securing Chen Jiahe’s hands and feet. This young blonde guy initially wanted to wave his limbs around to match his shouting, but after trying hard a few times, the amplitude of his movements grew smaller and smaller—presumably because it hurt too much.
Rather than a performance of deep calculations and being as cunning as a fox, the more Ji Xun looked at it, the more he felt it was just a display of putting on a brave face while trembling inside, a bluff.
If Chen Jiahe truly knew the facts of Chen Jiashu’s crimes… it was hard to imagine he could keep his mouth shut under the pressure of the police’s preliminary interrogation.
He thought to himself silently.
Yet no matter what, synthesizing all the clues, Chen Jiahe was the big fish they currently held in their hands.
Since Chen Jiahe wouldn’t speak, the police could only brainstorm ways to get him to open his mouth.
The subsequent content of the meeting revolved entirely around this aspect.
After listening for a while, Ji Xun gradually grew absent-minded, his thoughts drifting far away.
The meeting ended twenty minutes later. Huo Ranyin walked out of the conference room together with the others and stood at the door chatting with Yuan Yue for a couple of sentences. Then he called out “Ji Xun,” but upon hearing no familiar reply, he realized Ji Xun had not yet come out of the conference room.
He turned right back around.
Just as he entered the door, he heard a faint rustling sound. Looking toward the source of the noise, he instantly saw Ji Xun sitting on a chair he had dragged over next to the parlor palm, plucking its leaves and tearing them into thin shreds bit by bit.
“……”
Huo Ranyin walked over and rescued the perfectly healthy parlor palm from Ji Xun’s hands.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“The case.” Ji Xun gave Huo Ranyin an unsurprising answer.
From last night until today, except for a few hours of rest in between, one thing had followed another. The excessive clues in Ji Xun’s mind were like a giant octopus with a hundred tentacles knotted all at once, each tentacle flailing wildly as it rushed toward its own version of the truth.
Rounding it off, a hundred possible truths were storming inside Ji Xun’s mind.
He pinned down the giant octopus, holding a pair of scissors, snip-snapping away to trim the disobedient tentacles.
“Investigating Chen Jiashu’s case up to this point, there are actually quite a few clues. Leaving aside Chen Jiahe who is currently at the bureau, if Chen Jiashu weren’t dead and Cao Zhengbin by his side hadn’t run away, as long as we caught these two, this case could even reach its final breakthrough right now…”
“But Chen Jiashu is dead, and Cao Zhengbin has run away,” Huo Ranyin said in a deep voice. “We only have a tight-lipped Chen Jiahe in our hands.”
“Right. His death is truly fatal.” Ji Xun murmured, suddenly tossing a question to Huo Ranyin, “Do you think Chen Jiahe will talk?”
“…I find the fact that Chen Jiahe still hasn’t opened his mouth up until now rather surprising instead.” Huo Ranyin’s brows knitted slightly.
Clearly, toward Chen Jiahe, his attitude was the same as Ji Xun’s—he didn’t think the guy had a backbone, nor did he think he was smart. A parasite who relied on Chen Jiashu—when a parasite suddenly put on a tough stance, it was bound to be strange.
“Though I don’t know why this path won’t work, since it doesn’t work, let’s think in a different direction,” Ji Xun said.
He raised his hand and dropped the blade without mercy, snipping off the tentacle in his head that belonged to Chen Jiahe.
Analyzing a case was exactly like this; the more clues gathered and the more detours eliminated, the hidden path leading to the truth left behind would gradually become clear…
Ji Xun tilted his head back, resting his neck against the back of the chair, his face hidden beneath the leaves of the parlor palm.
The window was open.
A large butterfly with blue-black wings rode the sunlight, fluttering inside and landing on a leaf.
Huo Ranyin caught his breath for a moment.
Above the leaf perched the butterfly, and beneath the leaf was Ji Xun with his eyes closed. The light was like water, first illuminating the trembling tips of the butterfly’s wings, then highlighting the glossy green of the leaves, and filtering through strand by strand onto Ji Xun’s full forehead and resolute nose—onto this face he frequently traced in close proximity.
Ordinary furnishings turned into a framed painting in the blink of an eye.
Huo Ranyin’s fingertips brushed against his phone, but just as he wanted to freeze this scene in time, Ji Xun suddenly opened his eyes.
A pair of heavy eyes, deep as if absorbing all light sources, passed through the leaves, brushed past the butterfly’s wings, and projected onto Huo Ranyin, carrying a sharp clarity that saw right through human hearts.
Then, Ji Xun straightened his body. The leaf trembled, the butterfly took flight, and the sunspots shone on the phosphorescent shimmer of its wings, yet he stood entirely outside of both.
The light couldn’t reach him; a dark shadow drew diagonally down from his cheek.
“I know how to take the next step,” Ji Xun said softly and gloomily.
Seeing through the direction of the investigation was clearly something to celebrate, so why was Ji Xun unhappy? Huo Ranyin thought, but he was distracted.
Before his eyes, the static painting turned dynamic.
The framed painting became the scenery before him.
This scene, this person, vivid and full of life.
