On the morning of the twelfth, the atmosphere in the Beiye Sub-bureau conference room was oppressively heavy. Kong Bing had a cigarette clenched between his teeth, and the bloodshot veins covering his eyes made him look even fiercer. “We still haven’t traced the origins of the Zhu mother and daughter, and now we’ve got a Xiao Hua on top of that.”
Household registration had been poorly regulated in the past, and a large portion of the population moving in and out of cities had neither registered residence nor formal identification. At least the Zhu mother and daughter had once done business on Miaoping Street; if the police kept digging, perhaps they would find something. But the Xiao Hua Zeng Li had mentioned was nothing more than a name, and it might not even have been her real name. Where were they supposed to begin?
Ever since they confirmed that Zeng Yan had been replaced ten years earlier, the case had been hurtling into the unknown. The police held more and more clues, yet the truth behind her murder seemed to be receding farther and farther away.
Chen Zheng had dealt with cases more complicated than this before, but this time was different. He was no longer the person standing at center stage, and the capabilities of the Beiye Sub-bureau were nowhere near those of the team he had once commanded. Sitting in a corner, he glanced at Kong Bing like an observer. Kong Bing was the backbone of this team; if the backbone wavered, the work ahead would become very difficult.
“Captain Kong, how long has it been since you slept?” Suddenly, a relaxed voice so out of place that it seemed to jolt the very air in the conference room rang out.
Chen Zheng shifted his gaze and saw Ming Han walk in with a folder tucked under one arm. He set a bottle of unsweetened oolong tea in front of Kong Bing. Kong Bing pressed his fingers against his eyelids. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Ming Han said. “Captain Kong, I’m an outsider here in Zhuquan City, so there’s only so much I can contribute to the investigation. My superiors sent me here with another assignment too: to keep an eye on you.”
Kong Bing looked surprised. “Keep an eye on me?”
“Make sure you balance work and rest. If the backbone of the team works himself off the front line, then no matter how capable this outsider is, I’m afraid I’ll be completely at sea.” Ming Han said it with a smile, as though he were making a harmless joke with a good friend.
The oppressive mood immediately loosened. Kong Bing’s perpetually taut face twitched twice, and he actually managed to squeeze out a smile. “My brain really is starting to stop working.”
“That’s all right. You can rest while listening to the leads I dug up yesterday.” Ming Han lightly tapped the folder with his index finger.
Chen Zheng had spent the previous day questioning Zeng Li and had not paid attention to where Ming Han had gone. Only now did he realize that the man seemed to have spent more than half a day without loitering around in front of him. Ming Han pulled two sheets of paper from the folder and handed them to the curious Kong Bing. “I spent half the day playing dutiful grandson to the old folks on Miaoping Street.”
Several younger criminal investigators chuckled under their breath. Ming Han laughed along with them, then continued, “I found out that when the Zhu mother and daughter first arrived on Miaoping Street, the child was still very young, and some kindhearted elderly residents helped look after her. The woman said she had a husband, but he was busy away from home and couldn’t come back to be with her and their daughter.”
Ming Han paused. “I’m not going to keep calling her ‘the woman.’ Her name was probably pronounced Zhu Yumo, and her daughter’s Zhu Qianqian, but for now we only know the sounds of the names, not which characters they were written with. What we do know for certain is that neither of them appears in the household-registration records.”
The elderly residents had never once seen Zhu Yumo’s man come to Miaoping Street. They all thought she had been deceived. Raising a child alone was too hard, and some even advised her to send the girl to a children’s welfare home. Zhu Yumo was beautiful and a good cook; without a child in tow, they said, it would be easy for her to find a decent man and remarry.
What did she say?
She gently held her daughter and said that since she was a good cook, she had the ability to establish herself in the city, so why would she ever give up her daughter?
At first, she did not run a cold-dish stall from her home, nor did she own the house she lived in. Around Miaoping Street were many houses that had owners but no occupants. She found one and moved in. When the owner eventually returned, he did not make life difficult for a mother and daughter on their own. She worked in nearby restaurants, sold boxed meals at construction sites, and sold fried rice near the station before eventually starting to sell cold dishes.
Some men with filthy intentions coveted her beauty and knew no one was there to protect her. They often appeared near her cold-dish shop to harass and proposition her. No one could confirm whether she had actually been harmed, but the elderly residents hinted that she might have been sexually assaulted. As for Zeng Qun, he appeared relatively late. Even after Zhu Yumo disappeared, other men still came looking for her, but Zeng Qun seemed never to have returned.
Kong Bing raked his fingers through his already very short hair. “Zeng Qun, the real and fake Zeng Yan, Zhu Yumo, Zhu Qianqian, and now Xiao Hua—what exactly is the relationship among all these people?”
After a spell of silence, everyone began offering theories.
“The fake Zeng Yan knew Zeng Qun had caused Zhu Yumo’s death back then. She had something on him, so when Zeng Qun became seriously ill, he had no choice but to obey her?”
“Then how did the real Zeng Yan disappear? No matter how inhuman Zeng Qun was, she was still his daughter. If she suddenly vanished, he couldn’t possibly have had no reaction at all.”
“Xiao Hua took Zeng Yan away? Zeng Qun knew about it? But then how do we explain the mother and daughter disappearing for all these years?”
“Unless Zeng Yan herself wanted to shed her original identity because she hated Zeng Qun…”
Chen Zheng quietly listened to the theories, an uneasy feeling growing inside him—they were already being held hostage by the clues. On the surface, the investigation was still moving, but in reality, it was being led onto the wrong track. Everyone was now overlooking Yin Jingliu, who had disappeared before Zeng Yan was replaced, as well as Feng Feng and the others. The woman who had appeared in “Zeng Yan’s” home still had not been found either, and that was strange in itself. “Zeng Yan” had run a stall in the snack alley for years and was a familiar face to most people nearby, so a friend she could bring home should not have been difficult to identify through canvassing—unless that person did not belong to “Zeng Yan’s” social circle at all.
Chen Zheng left the conference room alone and went to the small balcony. The autumn breeze was genuinely pleasant, but his mood had nothing to do with pleasantness. Footsteps sounded behind him again, and once more he caught them with unusual sharpness. Sure enough, it was Ming Han.
“If you’re not in the meeting, what are you doing out here?” Chen Zheng asked.
Ming Han raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Who ran out first?”
Chen Zheng did not answer. He pushed past Ming Han’s shoulder and headed for the corridor. Ming Han followed him out. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going back to Fengshu Residential Complex for another look,” Chen Zheng said. “If you start hunting for motive while pieces of the puzzle are still missing, sooner or later you’ll fall into a logical trap.”
Life in Fengshu Residential Complex had largely returned to normal. During their earlier canvassing, the Beiye Sub-bureau investigators had carried the photograph from “Zeng Yan’s” phone and asked whether anyone had seen the woman in it. One person said she looked vaguely familiar, but could neither identify her nor say what relationship she had with “Zeng Yan.”
Ming Han followed Chen Zheng to the complex. Before Chen Zheng even got out of the car, he said, “That friend of yours had a stall right beside ‘Zeng Yan’s.’ The two of you aren’t ordinary friends, are you?”
Ming Han: “Huh?”
Chen Zheng said, “Don’t ‘huh’ me. You’d barely been ‘exiled’ here before you somehow had an ordinary street-vendor friend? Who are you trying to fool, a three-year-old?”
Several seconds later, Ming Han laughed. “Fine. We’re not ordinary friends, but I can’t tell you what his identity is for now.”
Chen Zheng nodded. “Understood. But asking him for a little help shouldn’t be a problem?”
Ming Han’s expression turned serious. “What kind of help?”
“Just a conversation,” Chen Zheng said. “His stall was right beside ‘Zeng Yan’s.’ He might have picked up something without realizing it that other residents wouldn’t know.”
After a moment, Ming Han said, “That makes sense.”
In the mornings, the snack alley belonged to vegetable sellers and breakfast vendors. Zheng Xiangxue’s wife was there too. When she saw Chen Zheng approaching, she instinctively hunched her neck and refused to meet the police officer’s eyes. Chen Zheng gave her only a glance and kept walking. In the spot normally occupied by Little Superman Ice Jelly, a middle-aged woman was selling griddle cakes. Morning business was nearly over, and she was already packing up.
Chen Zheng looked back at Ming Han. “You’re really making me find him myself?”
Ming Han raised his shoulders innocently. “It’s not like I can summon Brother Chao anytime, anywhere.”
As they spoke, a familiar figure entered the corner of Chen Zheng’s vision. Liu Pinchao was pulling a little grocery trolley toward them from the other end of the alley. Speak of Cao Cao, and there he was.
Ming Han laughed. “Well, look who showed up.”
Liu Pinchao was the kind of man who disappeared into a crowd. His face had a naturally bitter cast, and when he walked, he rarely looked straight ahead, always keeping his head lowered. He was so relentlessly down-to-earth that it bordered on rigid. Ming Han called, “Brother Chao.” Only then did Liu Pinchao raise his head with a dull gaze. He showed little reaction to Ming Han, but when he saw Chen Zheng standing beside him, his expression shifted slightly.
Chen Zheng stepped forward. “Brother Chao, do you have time to talk?”
Liu Pinchao did not answer immediately. He looked toward Ming Han. Only after Ming Han nodded did he say, “Somewhere else.”
Most of the snack-alley vendors lived in the old buildings inside the residential complex, just like “Zeng Yan” and Zheng Xiangxue. Even people who had not originally lived there often moved in because it was convenient and the rent was cheap. Liu Pinchao lived in one of the old buildings as well. He brought the two men to his apartment and started looking for two cups, but Ming Han quickly stopped him. “Brother Chao, don’t trouble yourself.”
Liu Pinchao returned to the table. His expressionless eyes settled on Chen Zheng. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
Chen Zheng took out the photograph. “Do you remember this woman? She was once inside ‘Zeng Yan’s’ home and may be connected to the case.”
Liu Pinchao merely glanced at it. “Your people already came to see me. They showed me the same photograph. I’ve never seen her.”
Chen Zheng had expected that answer. Liu Pinchao’s stall had been right beside “Zeng Yan’s,” so the sub-bureau could not possibly have overlooked him during canvassing. If he had been able to provide key information, the investigation would not have stalled where it had.
“That’s fine.” Chen Zheng put the photograph away. “Then what did ‘Zeng Yan’ usually talk to you about? You don’t have to tell me everything. Just the things that left a stronger impression.”
Liu Pinchao idly rubbed the calluses on his hands. Ming Han, meanwhile, looked like a child visiting someone’s home for the first time, curiously examining the furnishings—though there was not much worth examining, only old cabinets and decorations left over from the previous century.
“She liked asking about my family—how many people there were, where we came from, why I came here to do business,” Liu Pinchao began. “It was the kind of thing older people ask, except she didn’t pry the way older people do. It was more like… casual conversation. If I didn’t want to answer, she let it go.”
“How much did you tell her?” Chen Zheng asked.
Liu Pinchao shook his head. “Nothing. She didn’t get angry, and she was a little forgetful. After some time, she’d ask the same questions again.”
Ming Han said, “A young ‘Zeng Yan’ talking about family with a middle-aged man… that’s…”
“Not just me,” Liu Pinchao said. “There weren’t many customers buying cold dishes in the afternoon, so she chatted with people at the other stalls too. The impression she gave me was…”
“She was very curious about other people’s families,” Chen Zheng said. “Or maybe she longed for one?”
Liu Pinchao agreed. “But when people introduced potential partners to her, she didn’t want to start a family of her own.”
Chen Zheng thought for a moment. “Did she mostly ask older people about their families?”
“Seems like it. With younger people, she just chatted about food and what had been going on lately.”
A rough outline took shape in Chen Zheng’s mind. What “Zeng Yan” longed for was not married life but the family she had been born into—a complete family with both parents. That might have been a projection of the real Zeng Yan’s wishes, but what had happened for that projection to emerge in the fake Zeng Yan’s behavior?
“Did ‘Zeng Yan’ ever talk to you about anything else?” Chen Zheng asked. “For example, what she did when she wasn’t working?”
“She went square dancing in the mornings.”
Elio’s Notes: “Square dancing” here refers to Chinese public-plaza dancing (guangchangwu), group dance and exercise routines commonly performed in parks and open squares, especially by middle-aged and older adults.
Chen Zheng’s eyes lit up. This was a lead the police had not yet uncovered.
“Square dancing? Where?”
Liu Pinchao shook his head. He could not say exactly where. It had been around noon one day that summer. Business was good for cold drinks in summer, so Liu Pinchao had set up his stall in the morning and stored some of his ingredients at the neighboring stall. Not long afterward, he saw “Zeng Yan” return drenched in sweat. She seemed surprised to see that he had already opened, then quickly smiled. “Brother Chao, you’re early today. Give me a bowl of ice jelly. I’m dying of heat.”
“Back from buying stock?” Liu Pinchao had asked.
“Zeng Yan” spread her empty hands. “What stock? I went to work out.”
“Work out?”
“Square dancing. I can’t make the evening sessions, so I have to join the daytime ones.”
Liu Pinchao only knew that middle-aged and elderly people liked square dancing, so he had been somewhat surprised to learn that “Zeng Yan” did it too. Holding the chilled ice jelly, “Zeng Yan” praised how sweet it was as she said, “Brother Chao, don’t tell anyone about this, okay? See? I don’t even dance anywhere near here.”
Even if “Zeng Yan” had not said that, Liu Pinchao would never have told anyone.
After hearing the story, Chen Zheng thought of the yoga mat and folding treadmill on “Zeng Yan’s” balcony. She really did have a habit of exercising. Perhaps this was her only hobby outside her exhausting working life.
After saying goodbye to Liu Pinchao, Chen Zheng became absorbed in the new lead and left Ming Han behind. Ming Han hurried to catch up. “Bro, is my presence really that negligible?”
Chen Zheng immediately assigned him a task. “‘Zeng Yan’ didn’t want people she knew to see her square dancing, so the place couldn’t have been close, but it couldn’t have been too far either. I’d estimate no more than three kilometers from the complex, and it has to be somewhere people can dance during the day. Let’s split up.”
Nanchun Street was about two kilometers from Fengshu Residential Complex. That sounded close, but because it sat beside a different commercial center, the two areas formed separate living circles, and residents of Fengshu Residential Complex rarely went there. After striking out in several of the areas he had marked, Chen Zheng reached Nanchun Street just as the square dancers were taking a break.
Some of the women were chatting while others drank water. Chen Zheng showed them photographs of “Zeng Yan” and the suspicious woman. One woman pointed at “Zeng Yan’s” photograph. “I’ve seen this girl! Didn’t she come dance with us all the time? How come I haven’t seen her lately?”
Having confirmed the location, Chen Zheng felt slightly more settled. He told Ming Han to stop searching and come directly to Nanchun Street, then continued asking around. At last, someone pointed toward the convenience store beside the open plaza. “I think that young woman used to work in that store.”
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