Ling He’s act had been too convincing.
No—Ling He had overdone it. It was practically a case of protesting too much.
Yan Xiaodao followed behind the boy with the leg condition as he walked some distance out of the hospital, his emotions hopelessly mixed. It was obvious that the boy could walk. His legs were simply slower than an ordinary person’s; he could not go up and down stairs as swiftly or nimbly, and running, jumping, and exercise would be greatly affected. But there was one absolute baseline: he was nowhere near paralyzed from the waist down and unable to move.
In front of Yan Xiaodao, Ling He would not even shift his ass an inch without requiring Yan to support his upper body. Going upstairs, downstairs, getting into bed—it was always, “Mr. Yan, carry me.” Even getting into a bathtub required Yan to lift him in…. He had been putting on precisely this helpless act from the first day they met aboard the Cloudtop.
Yan Xiaodao pulled out a cigarette, then remembered that smoking was forbidden in hospital corridors.
Without hesitation, he snapped off the filter, shoved the rest of the cigarette into his mouth together with the shredded yellow tobacco inside, and chewed hard without expression. The sharp, biting taste and tarry aroma made him somewhat more alert while a web of blood vessels gradually spread through his eyes.
At that moment Liang Youhui called. Yan Xiaodao assumed he was about to return to Yandu.
He cleared his throat and said calmly, “Youhui.”
Young Master Liang’s naturally innocent, excited voice came through the phone, carrying the adorable quality of an enormous baby. “Xiaodao, I’m telling you—the police found new suspects!”
“Xiaodao, I’m only telling you, okay? Don’t let my dad hear.” Liang Youhui still had enough enthusiasm to solemnly report the latest developments to his good friend. His phone sounded as though he had buried himself beneath the blankets. “I just overheard my dad talking with somebody he knows at the bureau. I’m completely cleared now. They found my car. The suspects drove it away that night!”
“Who are the suspects?!” Yan Xiaodao had stopped dead in the middle of the crowded hospital corridor, completely forgetting to move out of anyone’s way and instantly earning countless clicks of the tongue and irritated looks.
“Jian Mingjue, the Jian family’s second son, and Zhao Qifeng, that female executive from the Jian family’s company. You know both of them, right? The two of them drove my car away from the hotel, and they even wrecked it and got the whole thing covered in all that disgusting blood. My dad was furious. He was just cursing them out!” Liang Youhui did not alter a single detail as he faithfully passed the information along to Brother Xiaodao. He was one exceptionally loyal and efficient human telephone, complete with a built-in loudspeaker.
“…” Yan Xiaodao’s eyes reddened, his teeth sinking into the most painful point at the corner of his mouth.
He could not be bothered listening to the rest of Liang Youhui’s rambling. Young Master Liang seemed to be saying, “That criminal-investigation captain solves cases really fast. My dad says afterward he’ll have a commendation banner made and send it over. Xiaodao, Xiaodao, do you think I… should personally deliver the banner? Would that look a little too—you know? He won’t really shove a police baton up my ass, right? Why don’t you come with me…?”
Mai Yunliang. Liang Youhui. Jian Mingjue. Zhao Qifeng.
Yan Xiaodao felt that he could already guess, one step ahead of the police, which distinguished individual would become their next target of investigation.
At that golden human-flesh banquet gambling table on Yilu Island, how many people had there been altogether? You could count them on your fingers.
He felt both heartsick and chilled to the bone. The Jian family was one of Linwan’s foremost wealthy clans as well. Ling He, have you lost your fucking mind?
Yan Xiaodao took three stairs at a time as he ran down the staircase and burst through the hospital doors, his mind already racing across a thousand hills and valleys and every stretch of wilderness between him and home. He wanted to get back. He still held onto one last hope that he could arrive before the police investigation did and stop the situation from spiraling completely out of control.
＊
Uncovering the new prime suspects was not especially difficult, but Captain Xue remained cautious. The first time he made out the woman’s general features from the footage, he kept his mouth shut and continued tracing surveillance recordings along the route.
They also pulled the road footage from the northern suburbs. They skimmed through it at high speed, and the process turned out to be far easier and smoother than they had expected. Once the car left the densely populated city—especially around the boundary regions leading toward agricultural townships—there were endless dump trucks, brick haulers, cement mixers, even horse carts and cattle trucks. Luxury cars, however, were extraordinarily rare.
A Bentley wandering into an area like that for no reason was suspicious all by itself.
The people inside looked extremely panicked and close to collapse. They obviously had no experience committing crimes or evading an investigation and had simply fled wherever the road took them. At dawn, with pale light appearing along the horizon, the Bentley veered off the roadway into the grass and became trapped in a muddy patch of marsh. The two people inside had apparently argued without stopping the entire way. The woman was ferocious, pointing at the man’s forehead and berating him. Even through the blurry silent surveillance footage, one could practically hear her hysterical, piercing accusations. The man repeatedly wiped his face, soaked in sweat, sometimes burying his head against the steering wheel and trembling, sometimes turning in frustration to argue back—only to invite an even more violent storm of verbal abuse. Most of the time, he simply hammered the steering wheel to vent his emotions.
“Fuck, did she actually curse the guy until he cried? Impressive.” Xue Qian commented. Even without audio, he could practically feel the ferocity of that lioness’s roar.
“Captain Xue, do you know those two?” a young officer asked casually.
“Mm… looking at them, I think I might.” Xue Qian said around his cigarette.
He abruptly came fully awake, spun his chair a hundred and eighty degrees, and ordered his men, “Go, go, go. Call our people at airport immigration right now. Stop those two. Don’t let them leave the country! But don’t go too hard on them either. Be gentle for now. Just keep them here.”
“Stop who? Who are they?” His exhausted subordinates had not even had time to run the plates, question witnesses, or compare photographs after being awake all night.
The woman in the recording kicked open the car door and charged out. One high heel immediately twisted into the mud. She struggled several times in comically slow motion but could not reverse her momentum and collapsed squarely into the marsh. Yet the formidable woman stubbornly climbed back up, covered in mud and grass, still refusing even in disaster to abandon the dignified bearing of a wealthy matriarch. Her expensive alpaca-wool coat might have been filthy from top to bottom, but the commanding aura of the lady of the house absolutely could not be allowed to diminish….
The man, meanwhile, reverted to his true form in a crisis. His psychological defenses were clearly far less sturdy than the woman’s, and he stubbornly remained inside the car rather than get out. He repeatedly pressed the accelerator and tried to free the precious vehicle from the mud. Whether because he was unfamiliar with the car’s handling or not, after several rounds of fighting the swamp, he ultimately failed. For a man, few things were worse than hesitating when the moment had already come to abandon something.
When he finally got out, even the surveillance footage showed a large patch of blood on his clothing. His path across the ground looked completely deranged. His hair was a wilderness of grass that seemed to have been struck by lightning, as though he might spontaneously combust on the spot at any second.
Xue Qian exhaled a smoke ring and narrowed his eyes. “I’ve seen her photograph in the business section online. You know those profiles of famous outstanding local entrepreneurs—the advertorial garbage companies pay someone to cobble together? That looks like the female executive from Jianyue Mingliu Real Estate, supposedly some legendary benchmark of a businesswoman around here. And with the luxury car, it’s basically got to be her…. People like this run overseas the second trouble hits. Stop them at the airport!”
Near the international departure gates, a tall moving target took a winding route toward the boarding line for a flight to Europe.
The man was wrapped up as though he personally carried eighty or a hundred varieties of deadly bacteria and viruses. Every part of his body that could possibly be covered or sealed was fully armored. His mask was so thick he looked ready to suffocate himself rather than let anyone nearby glimpse even the smallest piece of his face.
A large hiking pack hung over one shoulder while he dragged a suitcase behind him. He had not dared bring any recognizable designer leather bags or luggage, and there was no assistant or secretary helping carry anything. All the sweat pouring off him was trapped between multiple layers of clothing and recycled against his own body, creating a personal sauna so effective he looked close to collapsing from heatstroke.
Two ordinary-looking young female students were sitting nearby. Student A glanced at him and pointed with her pen. “Who do you think that is? Is anyone on this flight today?”
Student B flipped through an extremely detailed compilation of celebrity flight information from the past two weeks and shook her head. “Nobody we’re waiting for is on this one. Who’s that? He isn’t one of ours.”
Student A shrugged with the commanding air of an older-sister type and snorted. “If he isn’t a celebrity, why dress like that? Wasting our attention. Freak.”
The man wrapped like a zombie joined the boarding queue. At that moment, two immigration officers and several plainclothes police quietly approached from different directions, forming a loose perimeter around him. One officer nodded politely but with unmistakable authority. “Sir, may we see your passport and identification?”
Behind the broad black sunglasses, the zombie’s eyes visibly hesitated. He eventually produced his passport, but when the officer lowered his head to examine it, the man’s hands began to shake.
“Is this your photograph? Please remove the sunglasses, mask, respirator, and whatever else you’ve got covering your face.” A trace of helpless mockery appeared at the officer’s lips. The bastard looked as though he were preparing to enter a gas chamber. Was he trying to make himself even more conspicuous?
“I-I can’t breathe properly. I have a heart condition. I’m severely allergic to smog! The PM index is two hundred and sixty today. If I take off the mask, I’ll die!” the zombie stammered.
The instant he opened his mouth, he gave himself away. The face he had wrapped so completely accidentally exposed one feature distinctive enough to reveal his identity. Why? Because this gentleman’s chin was simply far too memorable. The moment he spoke, the jutting chin moved conspicuously beneath the mask, and that absurd shoehorn-shaped face nearly pushed its way out through the anti-smog covering. There was no concealing him anymore.
“Mr. Jian Mingjue, we need your cooperation regarding a case. You will not be boarding this flight. Please come with us.” Before the words had fully landed, several plainclothes officers took hold of Jian Mingjue’s arms from either side. They preserved the minimum amount of dignity for him, but without allowing argument, hurried him away from the surrounding crowd.
Jian Mingjue still seemed trapped in the terror of that night. Every ounce of his former ease and social polish among the wealthy had vanished. His whole body shook as he blurted out, “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it! I didn’t kill him! I don’t know what happened! I never meant to kill Mai Yunliang, it wasn’t me….”
Mai Yunliang?
Several young people in the crowd cried out.
This man had been trying to flee the country at the airport. Could he be the murderer who killed Mai-zai?
The professional airport fan-support crews who practically lived in terminals surged forward like a tide, phones already out as they chased the group all the way toward the second floor!
Even the plainclothes officers making the arrest were momentarily rattled. Their legs apparently could not outrun amateur paparazzi: police sprinting in front, fans in hot pursuit behind. Some people screamed and cursed. Others rushed forward trying to rip away the zombie’s pathetic disguise, tearing off Jian Mingjue’s mask and sunglasses and exposing his real face…. Others immediately rushed to post the breaking news and notify major marketing accounts, photographs included, embellishing their leak on the spot: “The evil murderer who killed Mai Yunliang attempted to flee overseas! Police surrounded and captured him at Jinmen International Airport around noon today. Ten thousand people mobbed the scene—it was incredibly dangerous and dramatic! The suspect is reportedly a well-known local businessman!”
＊
The other suspect had not fled with Jian Mingjue.
Jian Mingjue had made the same strategic mistake as Liang Youhui. Once something this serious had happened, what use was running? Mai Yunliang was, after all, a celebrity known across the mainland, Hong Kong, and Taiwan—not some nameless stray cat, street beggar, or anonymous passerby whose death could be quietly settled by stuffing money into police hands. With someone like him dead, public pressure alone ensured that the police had to give the outside world an explanation. Somebody would be arrested. What good would running do?
Besides, this was an era of international cooperation and networked manhunts. Suspects were extradited home one after another. Could running really hide you forever? Were you planning to abandon the entire rest of your life?
An unnatural silence hung over the Jian family estate. Jian Mingxun, head of the household, had recently been in poor health, his diabetes and hypertension flaring one after another, and had checked into a seaside convalescent hospital. Nobody expected disaster to erupt while he was away. The household’s nannies, cooks, servants, and drivers had all heard the rumors and seen the internet flooded with photographs of Jian Mingjue being arrested at the airport amid furious crowds, looking utterly wretched. Everyone was unsettled, exchanging glances that conveyed the despair of a collapsing sky. Some were probably already preparing résumés and planning their next jobs. Still, not one person dared say a word aloud.
The lady of the house was still here holding down the fort.
In the master bedroom, Zhao Qifeng sat alone before an antique European-style vanity inlaid with pearl and tortoiseshell. She drank a small bowl of bird’s-nest soup, rinsed her mouth, then applied her evening makeup. Her elegant movements, smooth pale skin, exquisitely seductive features, and fitted, efficient dress made her look as beautiful, generous, sharp, and capable as ever. Add a handbag and she could walk straight out the door to some wealthy socialite banquet. Yet a gust of sea wind slipped through the gap in the floor-to-ceiling windows, lifted the gauzy curtains, and blew across the large expanse of Zhao’s exposed neck, raising a layer of gooseflesh over her skin.
The housekeeper hovered outside the door, terrified that merely delivering bad news might somehow implicate her. She whispered nervously, “There are guests downstairs asking for you. It’s… it’s the Public Security Bureau….”
Zhao Qifeng descended slowly. Her heels made a light, pleasant click-clack, click-clack against the stairs. Facing danger without fear, she showed no stage fright whatsoever. From halfway down the staircase, she looked down at Captain Xue in uniform in the living room, almost as though sheer stubborn pride demanded that she contrast herself as sharply as possible with Jian Mingjue, that useless idiot. Her hair, makeup, and posture remained noble and composed.
Xue Qian did not dare neglect courtesy and had come personally. “Ms. Zhao, there’s a case regarding which we need you to come to the bureau, answer some questions, and give a statement. Please cooperate with us.”
Zhao Qifeng sat on the expensive sofa she had personally selected and crossed one leg over the other, displaying the long, carefully maintained calves she took pride in. “Officer Xue, whatever you need to ask can be discussed here. I don’t see any reason to go to the station.”
Xue Qian remained polite but left no room for doubt. “Procedure requires that you come to the station and speak with us there. We hope you’ll cooperate.”
Zhao glanced at him and countered, “I see no necessity at all. Am I a suspect?”
“Fine. Then let me trouble you with a few questions first, Ms. Zhao.” Xue Qian sat down squarely on Chairman Jian’s expensive silk-embroidered sofa. “In the early hours of the day before yesterday, did you and Mr. Jian Mingjue jointly drive a gold Bentley through the city and finally stop beneath an embankment at a three-way junction in the northern suburbs, where the vehicle became stuck in roadside marshland? Did you then leave on foot and, twenty-six minutes later, get into a vehicle driven by your chauffeur, who had come to pick you up? We have surveillance footage from the route and the area, along with your driver’s statement.”
“Second, Ms. Zhao, that Bentley belonged neither to you nor Mr. Jian. It belonged to Mr. Liang Youhui, a twenty-six-year-old Yandu resident who was originally staying in a certain room at a certain hotel that day. You drove away in his car, inside which we found a large quantity of Mai Yunliang’s blood. More of the blood belonging to Mai Yunliang, a twenty-five-year-old Hong Kong resident, was found in that hotel room. He died in that room at approximately the same time early that morning.”
“Third, Ms. Zhao, please provide the cashmere coat, brown dress, and high heels visible in these photographs. We need to test the clothing to determine whether any biological traces belonging to the deceased remain on them. Where are those clothes and shoes now?”
“In addition, we found wineglasses and drinking glasses in the hotel room bearing saliva DNA as well as numerous fingerprints. We would like to collect samples from you for comparison. I trust you won’t refuse such a simple, routine request?”
“In short, we need to know why you appeared at the hotel crime scene during the critical time frame; what kind of contact you had with the deceased, Mai Yunliang; what you did with him; and why you hurried away carrying his blood with you, driving Mr. Liang Youhui’s car while accidentally leaving your own vehicle at the scene—only to quietly retrieve it later while we weren’t watching.”
“If you’re still interested in hearing the rest of the detailed evidence, you can come back to the station and discuss it with us slowly. Ms. Zhao, please.”
“…”
Strike the mountain to frighten the tiger; seize the snake precisely at its vital point. Captain Xue knew Ms. Zhao carried herself grandly and would probably be difficult, so he could not be bothered circling around her. He threw the evidence of suspicion directly in front of her. If she could not explain all those question marks, then who else was the suspect supposed to be?
Zhao Qifeng’s ample chest heaved violently beneath the brilliant living-room lights, almost jumping free of the neckline of her formal dress. Beneath the painted skin of her exquisite makeup, emotion made her flesh tremble so violently that powder and blush seemed ready to fall away layer by layer, scattering her arrogant dignity across the floor…. The long nails on her right index and middle fingers had quietly snapped from digging into the wooden sofa armrest.
“I didn’t do anything! This has absolutely nothing to do with me!”
“It was all that stupid bastard Jian Mingjue! He killed the man. I never touched Mai Yunliang!”
“I really never touched that young man. I’m not even interested in him, so why would I? I’m married. I’m a respectable businesswoman. My husband is Chairman Jian Mingxun. We have a loving marriage. My husband is ill and still lying in a convalescent hospital, and I need to take care of him. How could I possibly have improper relations with other men outside my marriage? I don’t need to go to a police station. I didn’t do anything!”
“That night I… I never intended to go to that hotel at all. Jian Mingjue called and asked me to come. He tricked me. He lured me there.”
Xue Qian cut straight in at the key point. “How did he lure you?”
Zhao Qifeng’s crimson lips trembled, lipstick smeared onto her teeth. Her sharp, resentful expression was frightening. “I received a call from him. He said someone I wanted to see was there. That’s why I went…. If I’d known it was a trap, I never would have gone!”
Xue Qian raised a brow, now very interested. “What exactly did he say? Who did he say was there—the person you wanted to see?”
“It had to be him….” Zhao Qifeng’s arms began to tremble. Suddenly, inspiration struck, and she seemed to understand something odd beneath the surface. “It had to be that man. He wanted to ruin me. He was taking revenge! Officer Xue, instead of investigating me, you ought to investigate that Mr. Yan directly.”
“Which Mr. Yan?” Xue Qian tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, thinking. The one I just saw last night?
Zhao Qifeng’s almond eyes widened. Black-and-gold eyeliner seemed to leap with them as she hissed hysterically, “Yan Xiao, the man who runs the Baoding Group branch. The call said he was waiting for me in the hotel room. It was a lie. Eight or nine times out of ten, he orchestrated all of this. Why aren’t you investigating him?!”
Zhao Qifeng knew that a trip to the police interrogation room was now unavoidable. She had, after all, gotten Mai Yunliang’s blood all over herself, and her saliva and fingerprints remained inside the hotel room. Amid that terrifying chaos she had had no time to destroy any evidence tying her to the scene. But she was unwilling to go down alone. If she was going to die, she would drag someone beneath her as a cushion. Why should she alone be unlucky enough to face criminal charges? Nobody connected to the affair should dream of escaping involvement.
Before standing up, Xue Qian wrote the character for Yan’s surname in his notebook without expression, then drew a solemn circle around it. His fountain pen pressed so hard the stroke nearly punched through the flimsy paper.
The officers escorted Ms. Zhao into the police vehicle and brought her back to the station for detailed questioning. Before leaving, Captain Xue did not forget to order, “Go upstairs to the dressing room, find that coat and those shoes, and take them for testing.”
Seated inside the car he was driving himself, Xue Qian faced the strong wind rushing against the windows and rapidly pulled up the target’s information on the vehicle computer. He told his deputy, “Hurry up and investigate this Mr. Yan!”
“His registered name is Yan Xiao, twenty-eight years old, household registration in Wuping Village, Huima Town, in the southern suburbs. Don’t alert him yet. Gather enough evidence before we bring him in. Every single one of these people is harder to crack than the last. They’re all tough bastards. If they’re involved, none of them will admit it easily!”
＊
Yan Xiaodao drove home through the violent spring wind with his hands trembling on the steering wheel.
Nobody followed him on this trip. He thought that with events having progressed this far, the other side probably believed there was no longer any need for stalking. Everything could finally be brought openly onto the table, blades drawn.
When the electronically controlled gate opened and he drove into the front yard, habit still made him glance toward the upstairs terrace. The lonely maple and the camellia tree in the front yard faced each other across the building. Who would still be waiting for him on that terrace? The bedroom windows were dark. Not even one small lamp had been left on for him.
He pushed stiffly through Master Bear and Third Lady. When they failed to move, he simply lifted his long legs and stepped over them. Their master strode past with a cold face without touching so much as one strand of his two beloved consorts’ fur, leaving both enormous beasts so disappointed they howled and chased him all the way to the master-bedroom door, only to be stopped by the heavy panel closing across the corridor.
Mr. Ling was not playing the piano at this hour today. Perhaps he had just gotten tired and was resting.
Ling He sat on the sofa in the dark room with his head lowered, playing with something. His half-long fringe fell at precisely the right angle to conceal him in shadow like a beauty half-hidden behind a pipa, leaving half of one fine, slanted eye visible beneath a veil of mist.
The thing Ling He held was the Eight of Characters tile. He suspected Mr. Yan would no longer even remember this particular tile if he saw it again. Ling had kept it all this time and occasionally took it out to pinch and rub, imagining that what his fingers were kneading was Yan Xiaodao’s face or Yan Xiaodao’s nose. By now, he had nearly worn the corners of the rectangular tile round.
Tonight is the last night. I want to look at Xiaodao one more time, then quietly leave around midnight.
Ling He lifted the tile beneath his nose and smelled it, then caught it between his teeth, remembering the amusing scene when Yan Xiaodao had put on the expression of a shameless libertine and pushed this very tile between his lips. The two of them had exchanged glances with perfect understanding back then. Ling He suddenly smiled to himself like someone having a private fit of madness.
Just then, he heard activity near the entrance: dogs pouncing on someone, someone climbing the stairs, Master Bear and Third Lady chasing behind. That rapid chain of sounds bore down on the bedroom door. Ling He instinctively hid the tile at lightning speed, shoving it into the crack behind the sofa cushion at exactly the same moment Yan Xiaodao pushed open the door.
Yan Xiaodao’s gaze swept horizontally across Ling He’s position like two bursts of bullets, leaving invisible shell casings and sparks flying across the room.
“What did you hide?” Yan Xiaodao’s voice was hoarse. He kicked the door shut behind him with considerable force, strode over, and caught Ling He by the wrist.
“…” Ling He was startled by the unfamiliar strength contained beneath the bones of Yan Xiaodao’s hand.
“Let me see.” Yan Xiaodao’s expression was wrong. His voice came out in a low growl.
Resistance and displeasure flashed through Ling He’s eyes. “Take your iron claws off me, Mr. Yan. Why are you mauling me?”
But at a moment like this, deliberately cutting sarcasm was useless against Yan Xiaodao. He too had come prepared. Today he would not let this matter go. What else are you hiding from me, Ling He?!
With Ling He’s naturally aggressive and domineering personality, if he did not want to expose or confess a feeling to someone, then he simply would not expose or confess it, regardless of whether the person before him was Yan Xiaodao or anyone else. He pressed desperately against the sofa cushion to hide the tile—only for both feet to suddenly leave the ground when Yan Xiaodao hauled him up at an angle. Their strength and movements were so violent that Ling He’s grip on the attached sofa cushion dragged the entire sofa with him. The long sofa that had witnessed so many harmonious and intimate moments between the two of them seemed equally unwilling to see their present hostility and humiliation. Its wooden feet groaned and scraped anxiously across the floor, struggling as though to stop them.
Then the entire sofa performed a backward somersault, flipping completely over and crashing onto the floor. The impact shook the whole level of the house.
Ling He was tall enough that when Yan dragged him upright, their eyes were level. Two pairs of dark brows and brilliant eyes collided, exploding into a shattered nebula. Ling He twisted his hand in retaliation and seized the wrist that had violated his space. Without hesitation, Yan Xiaodao swept one leg hard against Ling He’s knee.
Under Xiaodao’s stunned gaze, Ling He was swept to the floor and crashed heavily sideways between the sofa and the coffee table.
The impact landed on Yan Xiaodao’s heart too, like an acute attack of pain.
His body trembled. He bent over and stared at Ling He, almost pleading. “Doesn’t that hurt you too?”
“Stop throwing yourself down. Maybe you don’t care if it hurts, but I do.”
“Stand up and show me.”
“I know you can walk, run—you can fucking climb cliffs, you can practically fly into the sky! Ling He, stand up for me.”
＊