“My name is Xin Yongchu.”
The bag carrier stated his name.
“I killed him about fifteen minutes before the movie started. The location is Apartment 3303, Anhe Building. His name is Zhao Yuanliang. I stabbed him with a knife and didn’t pull it out, because I heard bloodstains are hard to clean, so I just left it like that. I took the door key when I left, the key is here, you can open the door and go in directly… But I couldn’t find the elevator card, so you’ll have to ask the security guard to take you up. Sigh, the thirty-third floor is so tiring to climb.”
Xin Yongchu spoke with lowered brows and downcast eyes, exceedingly cooperative. He talked about the murder case with the police as naturally as if he were chatting with a neighbor about the landscaping in their community, mentioning a new flower here, a missing patch of grass there.
“I’ve recorded the whole process of the murder with a video camera. It can serve as proof that I killed him. Um… do I need to go to the scene with you? I’m sorry to trouble you.”
At some point, the movie’s end-credit song had finished, and the black screen for the rolling credits had turned to gray.
All eyes were focused on Xin Yongchu, and the very air everyone breathed seemed to hang on his narration.
He was so considerate, so thoughtful, thinking from the police’s perspective, from the cleaning staff’s perspective, as if he had just done something trivial that unfortunately had to bother others.
He was very sorry.
He had killed a person.
The invisible ice in the air was broken by Yuan Yue.
Yuan Yue took a step forward, emerging from the circle of police surrounding Xin Yongchu. He did not adopt a harsh, accusatory tone just because Xin Yongchu had confessed to murder. On the contrary, since Xin Yongchu was being cooperative, he was also friendly, speaking as if making small talk. “No need. According to procedure, you need to come back to the police station with us first to give a formal statement, admit to the crime, and sign a confession. As for what you’ve said, we will send officers to the scene to verify it before making further arrangements. You said you filmed everything with a camera? Then the camera is evidence. Can you hand it over to the police?”
“Okay, okay,” Xin Yongchu nodded, but his arms tightened, hugging the bag for a few more seconds before reluctantly handing it to Yuan Yue, smiling in a simple-minded way. “This thing is quite expensive, cost me half a year’s salary. It’s the first time I’ve bought one.”
Yuan Yue took the bag and then took out his handcuffs. Xin Yongchu did not resist, obediently offering his hands.
With the suspect under control, the surrounding police officers also came to life, methodically starting their work, contacting the station, examining the evidence, arranging for on-site work—under a large, precise machine, every part was working diligently.
Tan Mingjiu looked left and right. There were too many people at the scene, and all the tasks had been snatched up. He, the officer who had initially been closest to the suspect, was now left with nothing to do. The only thing left for him to do was probably…
“Get your hands off my clothes. Don’t look like a fool about to pee his pants,” he said with a look of disgust, peeling the pervert off him.
The pervert, who had been so cocky just a moment ago, was now scared witless, completely cowed. He shamelessly cowered behind Tan Mingjiu. “Officer, officer, big brother, that’s a murderer! Keep him away from me! The people’s police are for the people!”
Tan Mingjiu stared at this man and sneered. “Of course, the people’s police are for the people. Come on, I’ll take you back to the station. You’ll get to enjoy a fifteen-day, all-inclusive, worry-free stay in our first-class VIP detention cell, for free.”
A team of twenty or thirty police officers, along with two suspects, including Ji Xun, all trooped back to the police station.
As the first person to notice something was wrong with Xin Yongchu, Ji Xun had to act as a witness and give a statement, as part of the procedure.
There wasn’t much to say, so he might as well do it.
Ji Xun followed the police officers to the station. And then, he was left in an office, ignored.
He rested his chin on one hand and tapped the desk with the other, calling out in a long, drawn-out voice, “Some—one—come—and—take—my—state—ment—”
Yuan Yue’s ears were sharp, and he was summoned out.
He hurried past, placating Ji Xun. “I’ll be right there, just a moment. The team at Anhe Building just sent word back, someone is indeed dead. The case has been assigned to the First Branch. I need to go to the interrogation room to ask Xin Yongchu why he killed Zhao Yuanliang. It looks like a revenge killing—if you’re bored, you can come watch outside the interrogation room. Captain Huo is free, he’s listening in over there too.”
“?”
A question mark popped up over Ji Xun’s head. Why specifically emphasize that Huo Ranyin was also there? Would he go over there just because Huo Ranyin was there?
Ji Xun decided not to go.
However, staying alone in an office, especially without a phone, was incredibly boring.
He lasted only five minutes before succumbing to boredom. He stood up and sauntered nonchalantly to the interrogation room. Huo Ranyin was indeed there. Besides Huo Ranyin, many other police officers were crowded there too. But seeing them huddled in a corner, heads bowed, like a cluster of mushrooms, letting out a muffled laugh from time to time, it didn’t look like they were doing any serious work.
Ji Xun glanced over as he passed.
The officers were sharing a short video—a video of Tan Mingjiu’s butt being grabbed.
In the cinema, some quick-handed individual had actually managed to record this spectacular moment.
He ambled over to Huo Ranyin’s side. Huo Ranyin was sitting on a chair with his arms crossed, focused on the interrogation inside.
Even though the case had been assigned to the First Branch and had nothing to do with him anymore, this newly appointed criminal investigation captain always had too much boring seriousness under the sun.
“How far have they gotten inside?” Ji Xun made small talk.
“Revenge killing,” Huo Ranyin said succinctly.
Just as Yuan Yue had analyzed earlier.
Duh. Anyone with a bit of thinking ability could guess that.
“I lost my phone. Let me borrow yours.”
There was nothing new to hear. Ji Xun couldn’t be bothered to listen anymore. He announced, took the phone Huo Ranyin had placed on the desk, and sauntered back to the circle of police mushrooms, shaking the phone. “Send a copy of the evidence of Tan Mingjiu being molested to your Captain Huo for the record.”
His tone was matter-of-fact, his wording official. Plus, with Huo Ranyin sitting right there, these people thought it was Huo Ranyin’s order and sent the video to Huo Ranyin’s WeChat without any hesitation.
Ji Xun didn’t know Huo Ranyin’s lock screen password, but he had a good memory. Even if he hadn’t paid attention when he saw it, with a little thought, he could still reconstruct the dynamic image of Huo Ranyin’s slender fingertips swiping across the screen. With a casual try, he unlocked it.
He opened WeChat. Before watching the video, he first saw the lively group chat:
“Old Tan, your, butt, is it okay?”
“We saw the video… hiss, that was a hard squeeze.”
“Is it bruised? Is it swollen?”
Tan Mingjiu was online in real-time, issuing a three-part denial: “It wasn’t me, I didn’t, don’t talk nonsense. What video, how come I don’t know about it? Don’t believe everything you hear. I was the one who, upon discovering the pervert, acted decisively and with a clean sweep, used my taekwondo black belt skills to restrain him on the spot. In a flash of lightning, with just a click, the handcuffs were on—”
Ji Xun, doing a good deed in someone else’s name, used Huo Ranyin’s account to send out the short video of Officer Tan’s perky butt being grabbed, and attached the following comment: “As a police officer, one must have the awareness of a police officer. Your small personal sacrifice blocked a lecherous hand reaching for women, apprehended a criminal lurking in society, and eliminated a future hidden danger for many female compatriots. This video is a testament to your merit. It’s something worth commending, why hide it?”
The group fell silent for a few seconds.
Tan Mingjiu was almost convinced by this politically correct and righteous statement. He even felt that the police badge on his uniform was shining brighter, the gun at his waist was sharper, and even that embarrassing video he had been trying to avoid now carried a thrilling sense of sacrifice…
Until he discovered that this video was not only sent to this WeChat group, but also to other major police team groups, where everyone could click-to-watch-the-hot-butt.
“Holy crap, Captain Huo? I don’t believe it—” Tan Mingjiu let out a dying wail. “Ji Xun, it was you, wasn’t it!”
Ji Xun turned off the phone screen. Facing Huo Ranyin’s sideways glance, he announced cheerfully, “I’ve gotten revenge for us.”
“Revenge with my account?” Huo Ranyin mocked.
“Isn’t this what you were thinking?” Ji Xun held the phone up to Huo Ranyin’s face and shook it, smiling. “The moment I took your phone, you knew what I wanted to do, right? You didn’t mean to stop me at all, making it clear you wanted to teach Tan Mingjiu a lesson.”
Huo Ranyin coldly took back his phone.
“Don’t be angry just because I exposed your inner thoughts. At most, I’ll let you use my phone too—um, after I buy a new one first.”
Huo Ranyin ignored him, stood up, and turned to leave.
Ji Xun’s apology was only superficial. As soon as Huo Ranyin left, he dropped the fake apology and simply picked up the headphones from the desk to listen to what was happening inside.
Before he could hear two sentences, a brand new phone box was placed in front of him.
He looked up. The person holding the box was Huo Ranyin.
“What’s this?”
“A gift for you.”
“…” Ji Xun sucked in a breath. “Captain Huo, this isn’t reimbursed by the department, is it?”
“No.”
“I thought not. When a case is solved, the police station gives out a movie ticket. If you do well, you get a commendation, at most,” Ji Xun said. “If it’s not the station, then… you?”
Huo Ranyin was silent.
Ji Xun and Huo Ranyin were standing in a corner of the interrogation room. Their voices weren’t loud, but the content was sensitive enough to have already attracted the attention of the surrounding police officers.
They were no longer watching Officer Tan’s spicy little video. Pairs of eyes looked over, blinking, shining, each like a camera, wishing they could flash and capture a photo.
He leaned in, and under the watchful eyes of everyone, whispered into Huo Ranyin’s ear:
“Captain Huo, a gift of several thousand with a wave of your hand, that’s an exaggeration even for a capitalist. Are you really interested in me and pursuing me? I’m under a lot of pressure…”
Huo Ranyin couldn’t be bothered with verbal sparring.
Ji Xun didn’t touch the phone on the desk. He (HRY) did. He opened the box, took out the phone inside, started it up in front of Ji Xun, then entered his own number and saved it, setting it as speed dial “1,” and finally tossed it to Ji Xun.
Ji Xun caught it.
This brand new green-cased phone spun in his hand like a verdant wave churning. He grinned roguishly, deciding to fleece the sheep one more time. “But if you insist on giving it to me, it would be impolite to refuse. By the way, Captain Huo, could you also reimburse the WeChat red envelope I sent to the informant earlier? It’s not much, just 400 yuan.”
“Add me on WeChat,” Huo Ranyin commanded.
“One moment, I’ll add you as soon as I log in,” Ji Xun complied smoothly, not delaying a second.
Even seeing it a second time, Huo Ranyin’s profile picture was unexpected.
Based on his assessment of Huo Ranyin’s repressed nature, his profile picture would most likely be a solid color, either all white or all black. But Huo Ranyin chose neither, nor was it a landscape, a scenery, or a photo of himself.
His profile picture was a notebook.
A student’s workbook.
How strange. Maybe this notebook has some special meaning.
Ji Xun thought for a moment out of habit, then cast it aside, preparing to receive the red envelope. “Captain Huo, come on.”
Huo Ranyin gave him a leisurely look, a slight sneer on his face, his tone light. “I said add me on WeChat, I didn’t say I’d reimburse you, did I?”
“…?” Ji Xun was stunned.
He looked left and right and found that Huo Ranyin was serious. The man had dangled a carrot in front of a donkey, and after luring the donkey to run up, he hid the carrot. What a human thing to do!
Ji Xun felt he had gotten a raw deal.
But to make a fuss over a 400-yuan red envelope would make him seem intolerant, inconsiderate, and ungenerous.
Ji Xun pondered for a moment, sat back down, took out the new phone, and secretly poked the screen, changing Huo Ranyin’s contact name:
“Sarcastic generous cheapskate.”
After changing it, his revenge was complete. He casually put the phone away and watched the interrogation inside with Huo Ranyin.
Huo Ranyin was wearing headphones. He didn’t need them. With a casual look, he could read Xin Yongchu’s lips through the one-way glass—inside the interrogation room, Xin Yongchu was speaking in long paragraphs.
“Officer, I’ve finished confessing the details of my murder. Can you reinvestigate the case of Accountant Tang?”
Xin Yongchu was tall and well-built, but his back was slightly hunched. His legs were drawn in vertically, as prim and proper as a primary school student facing a teacher.
“Accountant Tang’s name was Tang Zhixue, from Yi’an County. 22 years ago, that is, on September 18, 1994, he was killed at home when the back of his head was smashed with a hammer…”
Ji Xun was suddenly stunned and looked at Yuan Yue.
Yuan Yue’s calm expression changed as Xin Yongchu described the event. His brows furrowed slightly, his jawline tensed. He realized—it was that case.
Ji Xun was focused on the interrogation room and didn’t notice that Huo Ranyin beside him had suddenly turned his head, his gaze sweeping over Yuan Yue, then over him, and finally, a corner of his mouth twitched:
A case that belongs to these two.
“I remember this case.” Inside the interrogation room, after Xin Yongchu had pleaded four or five times, Yuan Yue finally spoke. He wasn’t putting on airs; this old, cold case had just thrown his thoughts into chaos. His brow was furrowed, with a line like a knife-cut in the middle.
“The 09-18 Skull-Crushing Case, a cold case. 22 years ago, the investigation techniques were not mature, and they couldn’t lock down and arrest a suspect. But according to the testimony of another victim at the same time, the perpetrator was a transient criminal who came to Yi’an County to commit the crime. Tang Zhixue was the chief accountant for the construction project of Yi’an County No. 1 High School’s teaching building at that time. The incident happened two days before the Mid-Autumn Festival. Tang Zhixue had just withdrawn money from the bank to pay the workers’ wages. The investigators at the time, considering all factors, speculated that Tang Zhixue was targeted by the killer when he came out of the bank, followed all the way home, his house was cased and marked, and he was finally killed.”
“It wasn’t a transient criminal,” Xin Yongchu said in a low, firm voice. “It was Zhao Yuanliang and his accomplice. I have evidence.”
“What evidence?” the investigator next to Yuan Yue questioned. “If you have evidence, why didn’t you give it to the police? Xin Yongchu, from the beginning until now, how many times have I told you, we are interrogating you for murder, not accepting your petition. You have a grievance, but we also have an investigation procedure. Your constant interruptions during our interrogation, begging us to investigate another case, is useless.”
“I know the theory you’re talking about,” Yuan Yue said instead.
Xin Yongchu looked at Yuan Yue, and a light suddenly burst from his eyes. This light was a bridge, allowing his faith to leap over and land on Yuan Yue. “Officer, you know about this, then you must understand me!”
“At that time, the police had another speculation: an acquaintance committed the crime,” Yuan Yue said. “But in the end, this line of investigation yielded nothing and was dropped.”
“It was an acquaintance, it was the construction workers who killed him!” The usually submissive and honest Xin Yongchu suddenly became agitated, but even when agitated, his voice was not loud, still considerate of not disturbing others. “This isn’t speculation, it’s the truth. I spent nearly twenty years, traveled to more than eighty cities across the country, and followed almost everyone who had a connection with Accountant Tang at the time. Until a year and a half ago, by chance, I heard Zhao Yuanliang say after drinking that he had a lucky charm, a ‘Da Tuanjie’ banknote, a lucky coin he kept from when he made his fortune—Zhao Yuanliang, he was one of the migrant workers Accountant Tang paid wages to back then, and also one of the few who made it big. I became suspicious of how he made his fortune. I investigated and found that his start-up capital and his story of getting rich by playing the stock market after doing small business in Rongcheng didn’t add up at all. Later, I spent another year and clarified Zhao Yuanliang’s movements during the eight months he was hiding in Rongcheng twenty-two years ago.”
“During those eight months in Rongcheng, Zhao Yuanliang did nothing, just drank and played cards every day, but his money seemed endless. After eight months, he even directly took out a huge sum of ninety thousand yuan. He only had an old mother at home, not even a wife or brothers. If he was rich, why would he be a migrant worker? If he was rich, why did he let his old mother live in a shack all those years? The only source of this huge sum of money was the ill-gotten gains he got from killing Accountant Tang!”
Yuan Yue was silent.
What Xin Yongchu said sounded reasonable at first, but upon closer thought, it couldn’t be used as evidence.
Since Yuan Yue didn’t speak, the investigator next to him did.
This was a middle-aged police officer with a square face. His tone was severe. “You speak with such conviction, yet you can’t produce even one piece of financial flow evidence that can be presented in court. ‘Clarified his movements after twenty-two years’—is evidence just a matter of moving your lips? You arbitrarily convicted Zhao Yuanliang based on this ‘evidence’, killed him, and deprived him of his precious life. Xin Yongchu, have you not yet realized your mistake!”
“That lucky money,” Xin Yongchu became nervous. He was talking about his life’s work, the work of twenty-two years. He licked his dry lips. “The lucky money must have Accountant Tang’s fingerprints or DNA on it. Officer, please test it. Test it and you’ll know I’m not talking nonsense. I know, you police officers are very capable now. Accountant Tang had a habit, even if the money came from the bank, he wouldn’t feel at ease. He had to count it on the spot, lick his fingers to count the money. There must be traces on the money. I’ve read books, the textbooks state it very clearly. I, I put it in the camera bag, didn’t dare to touch it with my hands, afraid of contamination.”
The square-faced police officer and Yuan Yue looked at each other. Yuan Yue made a gesture to someone outside the interrogation room, signaling for the forensics team to collect the sample.
The square-faced police officer, perhaps moved by compassion, said with a tone of exasperated disappointment, “Since you’ve read books and know all this, why were you so foolish as to go and kill someone? You killed someone. Even if it’s finally proven that he was the killer, the law can’t bring justice to the Accountant Tang you speak of.”
Xin Yongchu’s head hung in shame. His arm twitched, wanting to cover his face, but both his hands were fixed to the chair and couldn’t move. He could only say:
“Officer, I confess my crime. I am willing to accept all judgments of the law. But the case of Accountant Tang, this 22-year-old cold case, isn’t it time for it to be vindicated? The police’s conclusion from the crime scene investigation at the time was that two people committed the crime together. Zhao Yuanliang was one. I haven’t found the other one. And the person who hired them, I haven’t found them either…”
“The police will make arrangements for this,” the square-faced officer said. “Look at the confession. If there are no problems, sign it.”
A thick stack of paper was placed in front of Xin Yongchu. Xin Yongchu didn’t look at it. He looked eagerly at the square-faced officer and Yuan Yue, searching for a pillar of support among them, a pillar to support his faith.
He had just killed a person and was about to face the law’s most severe judgment, yet now he looked at the police with such expectant eyes, hoping for justice to be served.
“Officer, after the case is reopened, can it be solved within a time limit? I’m afraid I won’t live to see the day it’s solved.”
“That’s not for you to worry about,” the square-faced officer became stern. “Sign it!”
“But officer…”
Xin Yongchu’s gaze finally dropped, falling onto the paper, then rose again, looking at Yuan Yue and the square-faced officer.
“I made preparations. I planned to randomly add silver nitrate to the milk candy produced by Zhao Yuanliang’s food factory. If the police do not reopen the case, do not bring the truth to light, do not bring the murderer to justice.”
“This batch of milk candy will poison and kill those who eat it.”
Xin Yongchu’s face showed sorrow.
“And make many, many people die.”
