Yan Xiaodao rode in Captain Xue’s official car toward the municipal public-security bureau. He watched as the vehicle swept straight past the imposing ceremonial main gate without slowing, slipped into a narrow alley, and finally stopped at some obscure side entrance deep inside.
Yan Xiaodao straightened his collar and had barely stepped out of the car with his head held high when his finely tuned senses and constant instinct for self-defense caught the rush of air behind his ear—someone was attacking him! He whipped around, bringing up an elbow to defend himself, but at the same instant took a hard blow to the back of the neck. Burning pain flared across his skin as a black cloth hood, thick enough to shut out all light and air, was brutally pulled over his head. His features vanished into darkness, even the oxygen he could breathe suddenly thinning. A hard tubular object pressed into his lower back. “Take it easy, Mr. Yan. Don’t bother struggling.”
The person speaking softly behind him was none other than Xue Qian.
The other man restrained him with the practiced technique of someone trained in fighting. Their ten fingers locked and twisted against one another in stubborn resistance for quite some time before finally breaking apart.
With his vision completely blocked, held on either side by two men, Yan Xiaodao asked in astonishment, “Captain Xue, are you planning to drag me somewhere dark and administer private punishment?”
“No—of course not. Just testing you, Mr. Yan.” Xue Qian let out the kind of shameless laugh that was practically his private trademark. “Looks like I wasn’t wrong about you after all. You’ve got a strong grip. You’ve trained.”
Yan Xiaodao had actually used only half his strength. He could hardly break the other man’s fingers, nor could he draw a knife and start slaughtering people. His rapidly rising and falling breath made the shortage of oxygen inside the hood increasingly unbearable. “If Captain Xue wants to interrogate me, ask your questions right here!”
Xue Qian snorted. “Don’t be scared, Mr. Yan. No one’s going to kill you. Come upstairs with me.”
It really was nothing more than a bluff on Xue Qian’s part. Everyone knew who he was. No matter how much he disliked Yan Xiaodao, he could not genuinely injure him. Yan was dragged along like a prisoner with one man on each side. If a paparazzo or reporter suddenly jumped out of the alley and photographed him in this state, the resulting scandal would destroy his reputation. He felt like drawing a blade and chopping somebody down. He knew perfectly well Captain Xue was deliberately tripping him up in retaliation for what had happened last time, yet there was nothing he could do about it.
Unable to see the route at all, Yan Xiaodao relied on his sense of direction to guess that he had been taken through a side entrance of the station, then led up a secluded stairwell through some rarely used corner of the building and around several turns.
Neither man could see the other’s expression along the way. Even with Yan’s voice muffled beneath a layer of black cloth, that did not stop them from trading insults.
Yan Xiaodao said, “What the fuck, are you taking me to Captain Xue’s private torture chamber?”
Xue Qian said, “Mr. Yan is widely traveled and battle-hardened. What, are you afraid?”
Yan Xiaodao said, “Branding irons, electric chairs, tiger benches, bamboo spikes—Captain Xue, feel free to bring them all out.”
Xue Qian said, “Those are all child’s play for Mr. Yan. Useless! Your skin’s too thick. I’ll need something stronger.”
Yan Xiaodao said, “…Scum.”
Xue Qian said, “That’s me! How about Mr. Yan hands over all those regulated knives hidden under your clothes and lets us have a look?!”
Yan Xiaodao: “…”
The air around him suddenly became fresh and easy to breathe. They had finally entered a large, brightly lit room.
“Tsk, Xue Qian, you…”
That familiar, resonant voice brought Captain Xue’s performance to an abrupt end. Yan Xiaodao yanked off the hood and found Bureau Chief Bao standing in front of him with a stiff, falsely benevolent smile. He truly wanted to spit blood all over both cops.
Bao Zhengwei secretly glared at Xue Qian, speaking with his eyes: What the hell are you doing? I told you to quietly bring him over without drawing attention.
Xue Qian shrugged, looking entirely impervious to either persuasion or force. “Chief, I ‘quietly’ and ‘without drawing attention’ ‘invited’ him here for you!”
Yan Xiaodao’s dark brows drew together in silent protest. It was inconvenient to throw himself at the bureau chief’s leg and cry injustice on the spot, but he was furious.
“Justice Bao” Zhengwei awkwardly glared at Xue Qian, then furtively threw Yan Xiaodao several placating looks. For the first time in his life, the senior official experienced what it meant to be caught between two troublesome juniors. Damn, what a headache.
Elio’s Notes: The narration calls Bao Zhengwei “Bao Qingtian,” or “Justice Bao,” punning on his surname. Bao Qingtian is the folk-culture nickname of the Song official Bao Zheng, famous for incorruptible, impartial judgment.
Bao Zhengwei cleared his throat. “Yan Xiao, we brought you here because we want you to help us take one more look at Mai Yunliang’s case. There’s one final disputed point we hope you can help resolve so the police can close the case. Think of it as fulfilling the duty of a law-abiding citizen.”
To Yan Xiaodao, that kind of identical official phrasing always sounded painfully fake and polite. He lowered his eyelids and, in a place where Captain Xue could not see, pouted at the bureau chief. I’m pissed off. Starting today, I don’t want to work for you anymore.
Bao Zhengwei helplessly strolled over. The right hand he had been holding behind his back in a dignified senior-official pose immediately came forward to straighten Yan Xiaodao’s disordered hair. His eyes said, Xiaodao, at least give me some face.
Yan Xiaodao thought that the black-faced Old Bao and green-faced demon who haunted this Ministry-of-Punishments yamen were the two most difficult ghosts in existence. They were particularly skilled at alternating kindness with intimidation, softness with force, and both possessed exceptionally thick skin. When you tried to talk jianghu rules with them, they brought up favors and old debts. When you talked justice and morality, they started using crooked methods and dirty tricks. They could practically force a decent woman into prostitution.
As he struggled alone against two figures of public authority and increasingly found himself overwhelmed, the image of the person he had been missing slid through Yan Xiaodao’s mind. Remembering the days he had spent with Ling He only made him more miserable, the regret cutting deeper.
There really was no harm like comparison. Only now did Yan increasingly feel that Ling He had treated him extraordinarily well, extraordinarily gently. A man like Ling He had willingly reined in his fierce temper and all those poisonous thorns whenever he was with Yan, sometimes even clinging to him or trying to please him. Ling He was naturally calculating, but he had never plotted to harm Yan. He would never have treated him the way these people were doing now. Around everyone else, Yan had to stay alert every moment in case somebody dug a pit beneath his feet.
Bureau Chief Bao had specifically ordered Xue Qian to bring Yan Xiaodao through the back entrance and avoid other people’s eyes precisely because he wanted to protect Xiaodao, whose own past was hardly spotless. Yan understood that much.
Somewhere deep inside him still ran a high-voltage red line carrying justice, principle, loyalty, and human decency. That heavy boundary separated him from the truly evil forces that had fallen to the very bottom of the dark abyss. Yan Xiaodao was willing to let that red line bind his hands and feet and restrain his behavior. He had reflected on the ignorance and violence of his youth and no longer wished to stain his hands with fresh sins. He was also grateful for the tolerance and kindness Bao Zhengwei had once shown him. Because of that, his respect and submission toward public authority came sincerely from the heart.
But when they were about to take him into the morgue, Yan Xiaodao still hesitated. “Chief… I’d rather look at photographs.”
Bao Zhengwei did not understand. “The body is right here. What do you need photographs for?”
Yan Xiaodao lingered outside the door for quite a while. The smell made him profoundly uncomfortable—or rather, the fragments of memory that were still alive inside him, fermenting and tormenting him, made the experience unbearable. It was not like encountering an unknown person dead in a traffic accident on the street, someone he could pass with a cold heart and no emotional disturbance. This had once been a living person standing directly in front of him. As Yan grew older, he had become increasingly softhearted and sentimental. He could not quite bear it.
So that day, Yan Xiaodao simply stood in the corridor facing a large window and smoked two cigarettes.
The judge and demon of the municipal bureau silently kept him company. The three men stood shoulder to shoulder in a row, smoking toward the window together. Nobody else received treatment like this.
Bureau Chief Bao grew suspicious and finally leaned over to probe him. “You really had nothing going on with Mai Yunliang?”
Yan Xiaodao rolled his eyes inwardly. The old man had been straight his entire life, already had grandchildren, yet was still damnably nosy! Yan answered with absolute sincerity and loyalty. “I already have someone I love. Don’t listen to the nonsense people outside are spreading. If my friend hears it, he’ll mind. He’d be unhappy.”
Xue Qian and Bao Zhengwei both looked at Yan Xiaodao at the same time, then immediately shifted their gazes toward the ceiling in perfect mutual understanding. After all, both had read Mr. Ling’s vivid, detailed statement. Everyone knew perfectly well who this “someone” was.
Xue Qian had never once looked particularly pleased whenever Yan Xiaodao was involved. With a mask covering his face, the way his eyes kept moving looked even more distinctive, his gaze repeatedly scraping across Yan’s face. But when it came to actual work, he was efficient. He covered the extensive areas most likely to cause sensory discomfort with white cloth, put on sterile gloves, and carefully exposed only the relevant section before handing over tools.
Yan Xiaodao did not touch anything. He silently looked once, then shut his eyes almost immediately. His voice came muffled through the mask. “The carotid artery was cut open and ruptured, causing massive hemorrhaging. What else is suspicious about it?”
He had never studied medicine. He only knew how to “read” wounds through experience.
Bao Zhengwei said heavily, “The key question is how this person managed to cut himself open.”
Those words instantly made the sensitive string in Yan Xiaodao’s mind spring upward and thrash violently. How had Mr. Mai “managed to cut himself open”?
On the evidence table lay the fatal sex-toy collar. Yan Xiaodao picked it up and examined it carefully. His heart suddenly clenched as though someone had seized his most vulnerable, undefended throat and lifted him into the air to whip and tear at him. Disbelieving what he was seeing, he hurried back toward the refrigerated drawer. This time, he forgot all his earlier aversion and reservations, yanked away the concealing white cloth, and practically pressed his eyes against the horrifying fatal injury, searching the cut surface for the smallest trace of evidence.
That day, Yan Xiaodao went back and forth seven or eight times. Under Bureau Chief Bao and Captain Xue’s watchful eyes, his face slowly hardened into an impenetrable suit of armor, doing everything possible to conceal his outward emotions. But his voice quietly grew thick and choked, while the turmoil inside him surged like a river breaking through its banks.
This was the conclusion he reported to the bureau chief: judging from the way the muscles and blood vessels around the carotid artery had ruptured, the fatal area had probably been cut by an extremely fine, thin blade. The blade had been cleverly embedded inside the toy.
Bureau Chief Bao looked deeply at him. “So you saw the blade too.”
There were several particularly effective places to strike with a blade if one wanted a fatal result that would be extremely difficult to rescue. One was between the third and fourth ribs on the left side of the chest. Another was the major artery in the neck. After those came the dense and complicated blood vessels of the pelvis, as well as the brainstem and cervical spine. But those areas were buried more deeply and obviously easier to attack by stabbing. Strikes to such places were generally fatal with a single blow and extremely difficult to save in time.
Bureau Chief Bao asked again, “How did the blade get inside?”
Yan Xiaodao said, “This collar looks like nothing more than a toy, but it acts something like a kinetic accelerator. It doesn’t directly kill anyone. Once powered, it rapidly vibrates, opens, and closes. At its highest frequency, it suddenly tightens around the victim’s neck and drives the blade inward, cutting the blood vessel…”
The expensive imported novelty Jian Mingjue had acquired was, after all, merely a pleasure toy and did not directly kill people. It had simply been turned into a vehicle capable of delivering the weapon.
Xue Qian gave him a cold sideways look. “You’ve played with one before? You’re sure?”
Yan Xiaodao said, “The wounds or cut surfaces left by different sharp objects have very subtle differences. Distinguishing an ordinary serrated edge from a special blade isn’t difficult.”
Xue Qian’s eyes reddened. “Mr. Yan, have you done this before?”
Yan Xiaodao gritted his teeth. “I haven’t, but it’s obvious. I can see it.”
Bao Zhengwei stopped Xue Qian with a stern look. They had invited Yan Xiaodao precisely as a “specialist with practical experience,” someone whose personal corroboration might finally convince Captain Xue. Yan’s judgment matched that of the bureau’s legitimate forensic experts.
Yan Xiaodao suddenly raised his eyes and stared directly at Bao Zhengwei. “Who actually did it at the time? Did Mai Yunliang put this dog-collar thing around his own neck and strangle himself to death?”
Bao Zhengwei said, “Jian Mingjue operated it, but Jian says he was too excited and lost control at the time. His statement also says… the victim kept seducing him and encouraging him to do exactly that. He also claims the victim spent several minutes alone in the bathroom beforehand, which would have given him an opportunity to tamper with the equipment.”
Xue Qian cursed under his breath. “The dead can’t testify. Now that Mai’s gone, that Jian bastard can say whatever he wants.”
Jian Mingjue had already been released on bail and was temporarily under residential surveillance. Captain Xue was so full of pent-up fury that he was ready to burn down the Jian mansion at any moment, although he himself understood that such emotion was deeply unprofessional for someone in his position. He was simply too obsessed with uncovering the truth and catching the killer.
Yan Xiaodao forced down his distress. “Was using this thing his own choice?… I mean, if Mr. Mai really was the one who suggested it…”
Bao Zhengwei raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
Yan Xiaodao lifted the white cloth and pointed. “Mr. Mai’s neck vessels were actually a little different from most people’s. I don’t understand medicine, so this is completely based on practical experience. Normally, the internal carotid is buried inside this muscle and isn’t so easy to cut directly from outside. But the deceased had a ninety-degree bend here where the vessel protruded outward. I noticed that before.”
Bao Zhengwei understood. His voice carried an indescribable weight. “What if I also told you that we found several drugs in the victim’s stomach, including □□ and an adrenaline substitute? Then things become much clearer.”
Elio’s Notes: The Chinese raw itself contains two square placeholders in the drug name here. They are preserved rather than guessed.
Yan Xiaodao stared blankly at the bureau chief, his heart twisting painfully.
Bao Zhengwei explained, “They’re several common stimulants. They can rapidly increase heart rate and strengthen cardiac output for a short period.
“We searched the victim’s hotel room but found no medication boxes. He probably destroyed them and threw them away himself.
“But he missed one piece of evidence in a bathroom trash can: an aluminum blister pack from the medication, bearing his fingerprints and traces of saliva from when he handled and took it. He used the drugs that evening, shortly before going to the appointment.”
…
Xue Qian remained silent for a long time. Then he pulled off his mask, exposing every trace of emotion on his face. The metal-sculpted features suddenly showed unmistakable pain. Red appeared around his eyes as he said furiously, “So the only conclusion we can reach is that Mai Yunliang killed himself. He deliberately chose the timing and the method. Suicide.”
Yan Xiaodao felt as though something invisible had slammed into his chest. Looking back over everything that had happened before, he suddenly understood it all. Yet with his habitual restraint and toughness, even when the blow hollowed out his chest, his expression barely changed. He did everything possible not to show too much grief or collapse.
Many things could never be proved once the person involved was dead.
But the facts had already been peeled open layer by layer and laid before everyone’s eyes. Yan Xiaodao sat in the office chair beside the evidence table, his body turning unconsciously with the swivel seat. Scenes from the past rewound before him, while the shadows of countless people rose and overlapped across the painfully white walls of the room.
Xue Qian sat opposite him, his mask hanging from one ear, half a cigarette clamped between his teeth. “Chief, I actually understood a long time ago. This is the truth we need to close the case.
“Mr. Mai used an unbelievably cruel method to take revenge on the scum who had tortured and humiliated him for years. It was just too brutal. He must have known You Haodong had left his ring inside him. He did it on purpose. He carried You Haodong’s ring with him, booked the room, seduced Jian Mingjue, and then successfully cut his own throat according to plan…”
Xue Qian, who habitually concealed his true self beneath an unruly, careless expression, suddenly acquired a heavy solemnity around his brow and mouth. It was as though a great wave had finally washed away the sand and grit, exposing the genuine material hidden beneath. That complicated expression made Yan Xiaodao reevaluate Captain Xue in that instant. Before this, both of them had been too willful and hot-tempered and had misunderstood each other.
The bureau had probably inferred the truth long ago. Captain Xue had been the one obstructing the conclusion. Otherwise, the case would already have been closed.
Yan Xiaodao could not stop remembering that evening when Mai Yunliang had practically forced him to accept the watch as a keepsake and had even “promised” him that he would consider starting over.
Mai Yunliang had been so timid, cowardly, and self-destructive, having thrown himself into a swamp of degradation long ago. For years, he had lived with the attitude that a miserable life was still better than dying, dependent on others while enduring constant abuse and humiliation, suffering contempt and ridicule from everyone around him. Yet when he finally decided to end that painful, twisted life, he chose such a fierce and tragic death, sending blood three feet through the air to splash directly across those bastards’ faces.
He chose a hotel the You family frequented year after year.
Before leaving, he deliberately took drugs that accelerated his heart rate and dilated his vessels.
He knew perfectly well that the abnormal bend in his artery brought it close to the surface and made it easier to cut, yet he still chose that method.
And finally there was the tampered collar, with one small but fatal blade hidden inside. Terrified that he might somehow fail to die immediately, he had chosen the most foolproof possible arrangement. Even if the most experienced doctor in the world had been standing beside him, unless that doctor had decisively reached into the neck cavity to stop the bleeding and happened, by extraordinary luck, to seize the severed artery after it retracted toward the skull and chest, there would have been virtually no chance of saving him. Death was inevitable.
Before dying, he had even sprayed Jian Mingjue and Zhao Qifeng with blood, leaving them with a filthy stain and the smell of blood that they would never wash away for the rest of their lives.
…
Xue Qian could not calm himself. “How many things in life can possibly be so unbearable that you can’t get past them? In the end, the only person destroyed was him. Those bastards are still perfectly fine!”
“Don’t get so worked up. His death wasn’t entirely wasted. Didn’t it finally lead to that video being exposed, no matter who was secretly fanning the flames?” Bao Zhengwei was trying to comfort his capable subordinate, and in doing so accidentally let slip a little information. “The people above have already sent teams to investigate the You family. I’d guess they’ll begin detentions tomorrow or the day after. When people commit enough evil, retribution catches up sooner or later. It’s never too late to settle accounts in autumn.”
Xue Qian lowered the foot he had been resting against the edge of the table, glared at Yan Xiaodao, and left without saying thank you. He was still unwilling to let the matter go. He firmly believed Mai Yunliang had not possessed the mind required to arrange such an elaborate trap alone. Someone behind the scenes must have taken advantage of Mai’s intention to die, quietly pushed matters forward, and manipulated a group of fools like puppets until the entire drama reached its climax and every piece of human garbage revealed its true face. Deep down, Captain Xue admired whoever had done it. Beautiful work. Damn satisfying. He only regretted that after investigating all this time, he had failed to drag that hidden mastermind into the light. Someday, he would absolutely find out who it was.
The moment he stepped out of the morgue, Captain Xue happened to receive his first formally worded invitation from a certain young master: 【Officer Xue, I happen to be in Linwan on business. Are you free? Would you like to have dinner? My treat—you choose the place.】
The hot-tempered captain replied with three characters: 【Eat shit!!】
Liang Youhui’s invitation could not have arrived at a worse time. He had run straight into a steel wall. After sending the reply, Xue Qian himself felt he had been a little rude and had given the other man no face. He hesitated over whether he should explain, then abandoned the idea. Damn it, he had no mood to explain. Young Master Liang, you have money and spend all day idle and partying, but I don’t have time to entertain you. Go eat shit by yourself!
Yan Xiaodao left through the police station’s side entrance. Before leaving, he did not agree to Bureau Chief Bao’s request that he take another look at the fifteen-year-old case. His emotions simply could not bear it right then.
Sunlight poured into the narrow alley, illuminating a single strip of brightness like a sliver of sky leading toward the main road beyond. Yan Xiaodao’s face happened to straddle the boundary between light and shadow, the division stark and absolute. Unable to restrain himself, he sent a text to the number he already knew by heart.
【Mr. Mai’s death has been confirmed as suicide. The police may announce the case closure tomorrow.】
He desperately wanted someone to talk to. He wanted to see Ling He. Whenever emotion struck him this hard, he felt even more acutely the bleak loneliness of fighting alone. How had he reached a point where there was not even one person beside him with whom he could speak honestly?
After a while, a reply finally came: 【Mr. Yan, please accept my condolences.】
The tone sounded faintly displeased, but there was no mistaking Ling He’s characteristic acidity. Yan Xiaodao shook his head with a miserable smile. Ling He, you’re jealous of a dead man? From beginning to end, the person I worried about and cared for was never Mai Yunliang. It was always you.
Mai Yunliang had finally been unable to bear the torment and suffering and had died.
Yan Xiaodao suddenly felt desperately sorry for Ling He, as though countless needles were piercing him. He remembered perfectly the secret Mai Yunliang had revealed before leaving. If what Mai had said was true, what exactly had happened to Ling He back then? What could have happened to a man so coldly proud, eccentric, ruthless, and distant from human feeling to turn him into what he was today? Who had forced Ling He to become this person?
The smallest thought of what Ling He might once have endured was enough to make Yan Xiaodao feel capable of killing someone. His heart hurt too much.
Lost in thought, he took a taxi home, his eyes staring blankly past the traffic and scenery outside. He was so distracted that he did not even remain alert for anyone following him. Only when he happened to glance into the rearview mirror did his gaze suddenly meet that of someone inside a car close behind.
Even through layer after layer of obstacles, the focus of their pupils seemed to lock together with perfect understanding.
Yan Xiaodao shot upright in his seat and stared into the mirror. “Driver, stop! No—cut off the car behind us!”
Traffic packed the broad expressway, making it impossible to simply stop and intercept another car at will. They slowed briefly because of congestion ahead, but the instant Yan turned his head, the car behind deliberately changed lanes and used a huge eighteen-wheeler beside it as a screen to slip past.
The lane change was arrogant and willful, entirely in keeping with a certain man’s habitual style. Despite several angry horns and curses from behind, the car forced its way successfully onto the truck’s right side. Yan Xiaodao was trapped on the left, an enormous moving wall completely blocking his view.
But that single fleeting glimpse had been enough. He had recognized Mr. Ling with his hair tied back in a ponytail. Mai Yunliang had been right: that face could never be mistaken. Even burned to ash, Ling He would still be a pile of bright golden powder shining more brilliantly than everyone else. Beneath the dazzling sunlight, Ling He drove with effortless composure, calmly allowing his gaze to tangle with Xiaodao’s as though he had come solely to steal this one look and satisfy his longing.
Yan Xiaodao said nothing. He threw open the taxi door and rushed out amid the startled complaints of drivers behind him, trying to circle around the eighteen-wheeler and chase after the other car. But traffic began moving again at that exact moment. Ling He locked his doors and accelerated. Yet before pulling away, he made no attempt whatsoever to conceal the longing in his eyes through the glass. Their gazes burned hot enough to melt the windows between them. So even those cool-colored eyes could burn; even ice-green possessed warmth. Ling He turned sideways and stared at Xiaodao, then gritted his teeth and drove away, quickly vanishing at the highway exit.
The wheels continued forward across the vast earth. The road ahead disappeared into an uncertain bank of mist. The two men had done nothing more than look at each other once through car windows in the endless stream of traffic, confirming that the other was still nearby, waiting somewhere in the same city.