“No… Nothing like that happened!” Wei Youtai sucked in a sharp breath, struggling to pull himself out of the nightmare. He was already drenched in sweat, an unnatural flush spreading across his pale face. His fists were clenched so tightly that the veins stood out. “Officer Chen, I don’t know what you’ve found, and I don’t know why Zeng… Zeng Yan was killed. All I can say is, you don’t know me very well. Do you think every delinquent stays a delinquent forever? Do you know senior year is often a turning point for people like us? Why did I drift apart from Zeng Yan and Feng Feng? Because my family gave me an ultimatum! If I kept messing around, they were going to send me to Country J! I didn’t want to go abroad! Besides, I started school late and was already eighteen then. Was I not allowed to realize it was time to settle down?”
At that moment, Chen Zheng thought he looked like a kabuki actor from Country J—exaggerated and unreal—but what he was saying did carry some credibility. His emotions were running extremely high, and he desperately wanted his “audience” to believe him. Chen Zheng deliberately interrupted that momentum. “Sorry. I’m too eager to solve the case. I originally thought that by finding the people who knew Zeng Yan well, I might discover the truth about her murder.”
Wei Youtai froze, like a warrior fully prepared for battle who had suddenly lost his opponent. A few seconds later, he shook his head awkwardly. “I lost my composure.”
Chen Zheng guided the subject back to Zeng Yan. “You said you started drifting away from her in senior year. Did you know that she wasn’t the one who came to the school to withdraw?”
Wei Youtai lowered his head and thought for a while. “I heard about it, but I wasn’t at school that day.”
“Zeng Yan was probably one of the first people to leave your little circle, wasn’t she?”
“Maybe.”
Chen Zheng looked at Wei Youtai’s tea. “What kind of tea is that? Smells nice.”
Wei Youtai quickly poured him a cup. “My father gave it to me.”
Chen Zheng sipped the tea. Wei Youtai was visibly restless before him, his desire to end the conversation obvious. Chen Zheng put down the cup and said, “Let’s stop talking about Zeng Yan. You and Feng Feng used to be joined at the hip. Do you ever meet up these days?”
Wei Youtai suppressed his agitation. “No. We stopped contacting each other a long time ago.”
“But you’re both doing pretty well now. Reformed delinquents and all—I thought you might still get together and talk about the past. I looked at your restaurant’s promotional photos on the way here. They’re very atmospheric. They look like Feng Feng’s style.”
Wei Youtai jolted. “How could they be his? He only shoots natural landscapes!” The moment the words left his mouth, he went rigid, fear surfacing in his eyes. Chen Zheng did not expose the slip. He went on to ask about Ke Shuer, but Wei Youtai claimed ignorance about everything.
When Chen Zheng returned to the restaurant, Ming Han was eating with gusto. Country J cuisine was delicate and served in small portions, hardly the sort of thing that should produce the spectacle implied by eating with gusto, yet looking at Ming Han, that was precisely the phrase that sprang into Chen Zheng’s mind.
Ming Han looked up. Without asking what Chen Zheng had learned, he pushed over a plate of sashimi he had not touched. “Saved this especially for you.”
Chen Zheng had eaten noodles outside No. 2 Middle School at noon, and they had kept him going for hours. He had no desire for sashimi. Ming Han had not even let go of the plate yet when he saw Chen Zheng had no intention of picking up his chopsticks, and he promptly pulled it back.
Chen Zheng laughed. “That token gesture of yours was awfully half-hearted.”
Ming Han’s gaze swept over him. “You must be disciplined to stay in such good shape.”
Chen Zheng was indeed in excellent shape. Clothes sat well on his frame, and in summer, when the fabric was thinner, the lines of his muscles were easy to see. But he was not actually particularly disciplined; working out had simply become a habit.
Not wanting to discuss his own body, Chen Zheng casually said, “I had noodles at noon. I’m still full.”
“What kind of noodles have that much staying power? It’s been hours.”
“The place outside No. 2.”
Chen Zheng’s seat faced the rear kitchen window at an angle. Other customers had gradually begun arriving, and Wei Youtai had returned to work. From where Chen Zheng sat, he could occasionally see him. Chen Zheng glanced toward the window on and off, and when he mentioned the noodles and No. 2 Middle School just now, he noticed Wei Youtai’s body suddenly go still. It was an extremely subtle detail and might even have been his imagination, but Chen Zheng could not help wondering: why would Wei Youtai react to the noodle shop?
Wei Youtai clearly was not good at hiding his emotions. Of all Chen Zheng’s probes, his strongest reactions had come when he heard the names Zeng Yan and Feng Feng. Now the noodle shop outside No. 2 Middle School had to be added to that list.
Ming Han finished off the rest of the food. “Where are we going next? Find Ke Shuer?”
Ke Shuer was indeed Chen Zheng’s next target. She had been Feng Feng’s classmate, and the two had dated. She was now the manager of a chain claw-machine shop. When the teachers at No. 2 spoke about her and Zeng Yan, they speculated that the two girls had been romantic rivals and disliked each other. The reason they often appeared together had been Feng Feng.
But Wei Youtai’s reaction to the noodle shop bothered Chen Zheng. After getting into the car, he did not start the engine for a long time. Ming Han tugged at his seat belt. “Tired? It’s fine. I’m an experienced driver too.”
Chen Zheng turned slightly. It was nearly five, and the setting sun was exceptionally dazzling. Golden light streamed through the window and happened to envelop Ming Han, turning his eyes a very pale shade.
Ming Han: “Hm?”
Chen Zheng asked, “What have you done today?”
Ming Han counted honestly. “Trained dogs, attended a meeting, investigated the case…”
“Remove ‘investigated the case’ and add ‘ate Country J food.’”
Ming Han clicked his tongue. “Why does ordinary eating count?”
“My point is that, as a Mobile Unit member, you haven’t actually been useful yet.” Chen Zheng unlocked the door. “Now that you’re full, you should probably do some real work.”
Ming Han looked at the open door and smiled. “Are you kicking me out?”
Chen Zheng lifted his chin toward the subway station thirty meters ahead. “Bai’an Street is five stops away. Rush hour is about to start. You’ll get there faster by subway than I will by car.”
Bai’an Street was precisely where Ke Shuer worked. Ming Han raised an eyebrow. “And you?”
Chen Zheng became serious. “I’m going back to No. 2 Middle School. I’ll leave Ke Shuer to you. Any problem?”
Ming Han stepped one foot out of the car. “I’ll buy you a late-night meal tonight.”
Chen Zheng turned the car around. Sunlight flashed painfully in the rearview mirror. Ming Han walked through the pool of gold and soon disappeared into the shadow at the subway entrance. Chen Zheng withdrew his gaze, and the car joined the rolling traffic toward Hele Street, where No. 2 Middle School was located.
Traffic slowed him down for a while. By the time Chen Zheng reached No. 2, it was dinner hour. Students tired of cafeteria food had filled every nearby restaurant and food stall. More than ten tables had been set outside the noodle shop, yet many students were still lining up.
Chen Zheng joined the student queue. He looked neither like a teacher nor someone who worked nearby, so curious student gazes kept gathering on him. He was hardly unused to being stared at. Chen Zheng calmly remained in line and listened to the students chatting while he waited.
The murder of an alumna from years ago had already spread like wildfire through No. 2. Everyone was discussing it, and Zeng Yan’s delinquent exploits had been wildly embellished as they circulated. Naturally, the most eye-catching story was the group fight that had landed her at the police station. More than ten people had received formal criticism, and Zeng Yan had nearly been expelled.
At first, Chen Zheng had thought Zeng Qun would have had little ability to pull strings for Zeng Yan. But after meeting Wei Youtai that day, he suspected Wei Youtai’s father had probably done much of the work, protecting Wei Youtai and, in the process, Zeng Yan and the others as well.
The students’ gossip contained little useful information. Before long, Chen Zheng reached the cashier. The gray-haired owner glanced at him and smiled kindly. “Back for noodles again?”
“This is only my second time here, and you already remember me?”
“I’m old, but my memory is still excellent. You ordered the shredded pork noodles with pickled vegetables, right? Want the same thing today? That’s our specialty. My boy loved it.”
A student standing nearby said, “Uncle Yin’s talking about Brother Liu again!”
The owner smiled, still looking kind, but Chen Zheng saw bitterness and helplessness beneath it. Who was Brother Liu? The owner’s son? Chen Zheng knew he should ask, yet the question stuck in his throat. All he said was, “Yes. The same noodles.”
The owner was busy serving the students behind him. A young man was cooking noodles in the kitchen and looked as though he might be the owner’s son. Chen Zheng carried his bowl away in search of a seat, only then noticing a photograph of a boy posted on the wall. The boy was good-looking, dressed in a No. 2 Middle School uniform. He was thin but bright-eyed and full of energy.
When Chen Zheng had come that afternoon, he had eaten outside and had not noticed the poster, much less the words beneath it: My child, Yin Jingliu, is twenty-nine this year. If you have seen him, please contact me.
Chen Zheng’s heart missed a beat. He looked back at the owner and finally understood the grief in his eyes.
The student who had spoken to the owner while paying carried his noodles over and sat beside Chen Zheng. Before Chen Zheng could say anything, the student lowered his voice. “I’ve never seen you eating here before. Where are you from?”
“Luocheng.”
“Holy shit, the provincial capital!” The student reacted dramatically, then hurriedly lowered his voice again. “I saw you looking at the poster. People from big cities see all kinds of things. If you ever run into Brother Liu, you have to tell Uncle Yin. He’s been looking for him for years.”
“When was that poster put up?” Chen Zheng asked. “Did Brother Liu get lost? When?”
“Uncle Yin only replaced it this year. See, it has his age on it? Brother Liu gets a year older, and Uncle Yin puts up a new one.” The student counted on his fingers. “Anyway, Uncle Yin was already looking for him when I started junior high. I think Brother Liu’s been missing about ten years? It was winter, anyway. Such a shame. Brother Liu even got into a top-tier university!”
The student had never actually met Yin Jingliu, and much of what he said was hearsay, but one detail was impossible for Chen Zheng to ignore: Yin Jingliu had disappeared during the winter ten years ago.
Zeng Yan stopped attending school after winter break, and Zeng Qun, already ill, eventually handled her withdrawal paperwork. Whatever caused the change in Zeng Yan’s relationship with Feng Feng’s group must have happened before then—and very likely during winter as well.
Chen Zheng could no longer sit still. Without finishing his noodles, he returned to Hele Subdistrict Police Station. Because of the murder case, every police officer in Zhuquan City was on edge. When an officer saw Chen Zheng return yet again, he immediately asked, “Teacher Chen, did you find something?”
“Ten years ago, Yin Jingliu, the son of the owner of Old Yin Noodle Shop, disappeared. Do you have a record of it here?”
A more senior officer said, “We do. I investigated it back then.”
“What happened?”
The officer pulled up the old record and sighed. “Such a shame about that kid. No. 2 Middle School rarely produced a student that promising. He’s been missing all these years, and Old Yin has never given up. He’s kept that noodle shop open because he’s waiting for his son to come back. But all of us think Yin Jingliu is probably dead.”
“Dead?”
“Yes. Most likely.”
The officer recalled that while Yin Jingliu was at No. 2 Middle School, he had consistently ranked first in his year. Being first at No. 2 normally meant little, but Yin Jingliu could place among the top hundred students in the entire city. He had also won second prize in a mathematics competition during his second year of high school. It had not been enough to qualify him for direct university admission, but it had still become one of No. 2’s proudest stories. The officer remembered that whenever the school’s delinquents were brought to the station, their teachers would lecture them: “Look at Yin Jingliu! You’re all at the same school. He’s going to become a dragon, while you lot will stay worms!”
Back then, Yin Jingliu’s name was always on No. 2’s honor roll. Even two or three years after he disappeared, the officer would still hear teachers mention him from time to time.
According to the record, Yin Jingliu’s father, Yin Gaoqiang, reported him missing on January 23. Yin Jingliu had returned home for winter break and gone out on the afternoon of the twenty-first, after which he never returned. When asked why they had not reported him missing immediately, the parents said Yin Jingliu had always had many friends. Since he had gone to university in Luocheng and had not seen them for several months, they assumed he was staying at a classmate’s home.
Police investigation showed that Yin Jingliu had not contacted any former classmates after returning home. The last place he was seen was Shaochun Street, on the southern urban-rural fringe. After canvassing the area, police found no one who knew where Yin Jingliu had gone.
The case remained unresolved. There were too few clues and nowhere to search. Yin Gaoqiang had run his noodle shop for decades. Once it became clear that his son was going to make something of himself and the couple had saved enough money, they originally planned to retire after Yin Jingliu graduated from university. But their son disappeared. The elderly couple kept the noodle shop open year after year, waiting for him to return. Several years earlier, Yin Gaoqiang’s wife fell ill from years of exhaustion and died before their son came home.
As the officer spoke, he kept shaking his head. Perhaps the tragedies of ordinary people were the easiest for other ordinary people to understand.
“What was your assessment of the case?” Chen Zheng asked.
Many missing-person cases occurred every year, and the police could not devote themselves indefinitely to a single one. The officer explained that they found no one who had a grudge against Yin Jingliu, so retaliation could be ruled out first. There had also been no conflict between Yin Jingliu and his parents, so he was unlikely to have inexplicably run away from home. During those years, several people in Han Province had fallen into overseas human-trafficking traps and been deceived into going to Southeast Asia. Many victims were young adults with little life experience. Yin Jingliu fit that profile. A small number had eventually been rescued, but far more had died in foreign countries.
After listening to the officer’s analysis, Chen Zheng frowned. It was possible Yin Jingliu had been caught up in human trafficking, but victims of trafficking generally left related clues somewhere in their lives. Police had found none around Yin Jingliu. They had only inferred that he might have been trafficked because of similar cases occurring at the time.
Chen Zheng continued reading the records. Yin Jingliu’s relationships had been simple: classmates, teachers, and relatives. The station had taken a huge number of statements. Chen Zheng paid particular attention to No. 2 Middle School’s delinquents, but Yin Jingliu appeared to have had nothing whatsoever to do with them.
Yet when he reached the section concerning Yin Jingliu’s university life, Chen Zheng found something strange. His roommates and classmates all described him as introverted, withdrawn, and quiet. This was completely different from his personality in secondary school. Had Yin Jingliu experienced something in Luocheng that eventually led to his disappearance?
As he continued reading, Chen Zheng’s brows suddenly drew tight. Late in the investigation, Yin Gaoqiang had mentioned one seemingly insignificant detail to police—during his senior year, Yin Jingliu had been caught up in a fight involving delinquents and felt unwell after returning home.
Yin Gaoqiang had only given an approximate date for the fight: mid-November. Chen Zheng remembered another record he had read earlier. The fight involving Zeng Yan occurred on November 14. There was a very real possibility they were the same fight.
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