Jin Xiaoquan had never been a decent man. He’d survived gunfire and bloodshed in Southeast Asia. If he could just get through this first confrontation and leave Luocheng, there was still hope of escaping the country. The other party had interests tied to his own, and at this critical moment they were willing to commit so many resources. Jin Xiaoquan had no option but to depend on them and gamble.
When the roads leading out of the city were thick with police and almost impossible to break through, Jin Xiaoquan received further instructions: change course toward the tunnel. Blowing it up would deal with the most troublesome police car. Once he emerged, large numbers of people would be waiting to help him, and they would take out the Special Police. Returning toward the city center was highly risky, but it also created an opportunity. Downtown Luocheng was practically a city that never slept. He could grab a few hostages and force the police to comply.
But Jin Xiaoquan hadn’t expected that the people waiting beyond the tunnel weren’t there to help him at all. The scene he’d hoped to find never materialized. Instead, Special Police surrounded his G-Class SUV. That was why he’d looked so furious when he stepped out.
Perhaps, given a little more time, he would have realized that the trap beyond the tunnel wasn’t intended to kill the police at all. It was intended to kill…!
Ming Han held his anger in check and searched through his optical sight. The fatal bullet had indeed come from the office building to the southeast, but no matter where he looked, he couldn’t find the figure concealed in the night.
The sniper had already escaped.
Ming Han lowered his light sniper rifle and clenched his right hand into a fist.
Police cars had gathered beneath the office building, their flashing lights forming a sea of three colors. Special Police were already inside. The building stood thirty-three stories tall. Although it had been completed and in use for more than two years, its poor location meant very few businesses had moved in. At this late hour, only the security guards on duty were there.
One guard was so frightened he stammered. After seven in the evening, he said, the building was usually deserted. The cleaners had left at nine, and he’d been watching a ball game in the security room. He hadn’t seen anyone enter or leave before the police arrived.
Special Police retrieved the surveillance footage and began searching. On the twelfth floor, they found images of someone believed to be the sniper. At 10:40 p.m., he’d entered through the main entrance while the guard’s back was turned. The guard hadn’t noticed him at all. He’d visited the ninth, tenth, and twelfth floors in succession, presumably looking for a suitable firing position. At that time, Jin Xiaoquan had been entering the tunnel.
He eventually settled on the twelfth floor, leaving clear footprints near a window. The cameras hadn’t captured the shooting, but they did record him hurrying downstairs. This time he didn’t leave by the main entrance. Instead, he climbed directly out of a fourth-floor window and dropped to the ground. That window faced away from the area surrounded by police. He landed on the grass and had long since vanished.
He didn’t seem to mind leaving images of himself and footprints behind, almost as if he were an old acquaintance of the police.
Ming Han stared at the figure on the surveillance footage. “Him again!”
It was Killer A, the man who had attacked Chen Zheng in Zhuquan City. The trace-evidence report reached the same conclusion later: he was the same person who’d killed Huo Yewei at Weimo Mountain Resort and the same killer who’d murdered Bin Fa and dumped his body in Zhuquan.
In the early hours of the ninth, the Mobile Unit office was filled with the powerful fragrance of tea. Jin Xiaoquan had been confirmed dead. Killer A had escaped. Some Mobile Unit officers had been injured and were being treated in the hospital. Ming Han’s arm had been grazed by a bullet fragment during the exchange of fire. He hadn’t noticed at the time, and blood had run all down his arm before the wound was treated.
He sat in the back row with his phone in hand. News of the emergency in Luocheng had already reached Junan City. Chen Zheng had spent the entire night worrying about him and naturally hadn’t been able to sleep. He insisted on a video call so he could inspect Ming Han’s injury.
For Ming Han it was only a small wound. Once bandaged, there wasn’t even any blood to see. But it was Ming Han’s state of mind that concerned Chen Zheng. Jin Xiaoquan was supposed to be captured alive. Tang Xiaoli had deployed so many officers precisely to prevent him from dying in a desperate last stand. What neither the police nor Jin Xiaoquan had anticipated was that the people behind his escape would finish their elaborate plan by killing him. They had never intended to save Jin Xiaoquan from the beginning. The whole complicated operation had been meant to lull him and the police into a false sense of security.
Jin Xiaoquan had died right in front of Ming Han. From Killer A’s position, he could even have killed two or three police officers before escaping. This wasn’t only the elimination of Jin Xiaoquan. It was a demonstration of power from above.
Ming Han stared at Chen Zheng on the phone screen, his eyes motionless, far quieter than usual.
Suddenly, Chen Zheng said, “Baby.”
Ming Han froze. He’d heard clearly enough, but his brain didn’t seem to process it. “Bro, what did you say?”
“Baby.” Chen Zheng raised a hand and gently stroked the image of Ming Han’s hand through the screen. “It’s not your fault. Old Tang and Old Lu didn’t see this move coming either.”
Ming Han leaned forward and rested his head on the table. He was so tall that the posture was awkward, but it brought him a little closer to the screen. “Bro, what did you just call me?”
“You heard me, didn’t you?” Chen Zheng gave Ming Han’s head a light, imaginary pat. “I know this hurts.”
Ming Han gave his head a little shake, as though rubbing it against the back of Chen Zheng’s hand. “Actually, I almost stopped it. When we entered the tunnel, I already felt something was wrong. And when Jin Xiaoquan was surrounded, I’d figured it out. It’s just…”
He’d still been one second too late. Just one second.
“Bro, I hate that I couldn’t stop it.” Perhaps because of the way he was lying, Ming Han’s voice sounded muffled. “If you’d been the one leading the pursuit…”
“Mingbao,” Chen Zheng interrupted. “Then the one lying there asking to be comforted might have been me.”
Ming Han blinked. The new nickname reddened the tips of his ears. He rolled his eyes away and coughed. “Bro, we’re about to have a meeting.”
Chen Zheng nodded. “I know. Let me listen in.”
Jin Xiaoquan was a foreign national, and he’d been killed by another member of the criminal side. There would be extensive follow-up investigation involving far more than the Mobile Unit and Special Police. His phone and computer had been in the car. Self-destruct programs had already activated before his death, and a large amount of data had been damaged. Technical Investigation was doing everything it could to recover it.
The five support vehicles had carried fifteen suspects. Six were severely injured and had yet to regain consciousness. The other nine were awaiting further interrogation. All were known to have undergone training comparable to that of mercenaries, similar to the men employed by Nanfeng Pharmaceuticals’ security company. The difference was that these suspects had valid identification documents, though their identities hadn’t yet been confirmed.
There was still a mountain of work ahead. Lu Hejing looked at his officers, many of them subdued after Jin Xiaoquan’s death, and unusually decided to lift their spirits. He clapped his hands and put on a slightly awkward smile. The first person he called on was Ming Han. “Bird Bro, we’re having a meeting. What are you staring at the table for?”
Chen Zheng was startled too, but from where he was, he couldn’t see Lu Hejing at all. Lu had been told beforehand that Chen Zheng was listening in. Still, as his footsteps approached, Chen Zheng suddenly had the feeling that everyone in the room was looking at Ming Han, and through him, at Chen Zheng himself.
Ming Han instinctively lifted the phone as though to hide it, then realized there was nothing to hide and quickly set it down again. “I-I’m reflecting on what happened.”
“Reflecting on whether to have Zhou Jue turn that ‘battle vehicle’ of yours into a tank next time?” Lu Hejing stopped at the table and found himself staring straight at Chen Zheng from a disastrously unflattering angle.
Chen Zheng: “…”
Lu Hejing: “…”
Chen Zheng turned his face away and pretended he hadn’t seen anything.
Lu Hejing picked up the phone. Chen Zheng couldn’t keep up the pretense now. He waved and silently mouthed, “Little Uncle.”
Lu Hejing tossed the phone back to Ming Han and went over to Zhou Jue. “Enjoy yourself out there?”
Zhou Jue stuck out his neck. “I-it’s just that the damage is a bit… a bit serious. Repairs will cost money. Money…”
“Fine. We’ll deduct it from your salary.”
“Hey, Old Lu!”
Lu Hejing walked around the room, exchanging a few words with every officer who’d participated in the operation. The gloom that had hung over them since Jin Xiaoquan’s death lifted a little. Chen Zheng, currently nestled in Ming Han’s “arms,” listened with a certain admiration.
He’d seldom worked directly with Lu Hejing. This was the first time he’d seen his uncle encouraging his team. So the man had become a legend in Luocheng law enforcement not only because of his investigative ability. His personal charisma also came through at exactly the right moment in adversity.
After the next assignments had been distributed, the meeting broke up. But Lu Hejing signaled with his eyes that Ming Han shouldn’t leave yet. Ming Han glanced at the still-connected video call and realized Lu probably wanted to talk to both him and Chen Zheng.
Sure enough, Lu Hejing said, “Haven’t dozed off, have you? Let’s have a little meeting of our own.”
Talking to Lu Hejing on the other side of the screen wasn’t the same as talking to Ming Han. Chen Zheng instinctively straightened his collar and sat upright.
“Jin Xiaoquan dies at a moment like this. What do you make of it?” Lu Hejing looked at Chen Zheng. “Not just Jin Xiaoquan’s case. Think about Wu Mo and Nanfeng Pharmaceuticals too, all together.”
Chen Zheng picked up his notebook of clues and glanced through it. “Actually, I’ve got a few thoughts that I haven’t quite sorted out yet.”
“Let’s hear them,” Lu Hejing said.
Chen Zheng nodded. “Our attention used to be firmly on Nanfeng Pharmaceuticals. It manufactured drugs and killed six students. Those are facts. But it may also be the wrong target, deliberately placed in front of us. Once we fixate on it, the real truth will stay hidden.”
“Hmm?” Lu Hejing said.
“It’s only recently that I began to suspect this, so I’ll start with the founding of Nanfeng. Huyun Tea Factory fell into crisis, and Wu Mo and some of the workers sought a way to transform the business. At that point, drug traffickers had already approached Wu Mo. We now know Jin Xiaoquan was the one supporting the illicit drug workshop, but we still don’t know who was behind Jin Xiaoquan.”
Lu Hejing nodded for him to go on.
“Wu Mo received help from two sources. First, he made a lot of money manufacturing drugs. Second, Liang Yueze invested in his operation. Whether those two sources were connected, or whether Liang Yueze’s investment was specifically intended to fund drug production, hasn’t been established. Liang Yueze denies it, Wu Mo is dead, and the remaining people at Nanfeng with inside knowledge can’t produce evidence. So we’ll have to set the Liang Yueze side aside for now.”
Chen Zheng continued, “Back to Wu Mo. During Nanfeng’s first period of drug production, Wu Mo was an instigator, an active participant, and a beneficiary. He was capable of brutally murdering the people who uncovered his secret, then giving their bodies to Ruan Xingjie to secure the feng shui. But here’s something strange: the first round of drug production lasted less than a year. After that, Nanfeng became an ordinary pharmaceutical company. Why would Wu Mo ‘wash his hands’ of the drug trade after a little over a year? Only he knew.”
“Du Hui says Wu Mo was actually afraid. In Du Hui’s eyes, before he went down the wrong road, Wu Mo had always been a good leader who cared deeply for Huyun Tea Factory and its workers. He’d climbed from ordinary employee to management without stealing, cheating, or using his position for personal gain. Wu Mo dared make drugs, but he must have been frightened beneath it all. What Du Hui means is that Wu Mo felt cornered. The tea factory was failing, and so many workers and families depended on it. At just that moment, making drugs was offered as a way out. Over those months, the tea factory and pharmaceutical company both survived, but Wu Mo lived in constant fear. Once Nanfeng was stable, he stopped.”
Ming Han interrupted. “Drugs aren’t something you can simply walk away from, whether you’re using them or dealing them, are they?”
“Exactly,” Chen Zheng said. “So Wu Mo probably didn’t stop of his own accord. He may have wanted to, but he wasn’t the one making that decision.”
“Then it had to be Jin Xiaoquan and the people behind him,” Ming Han said. “They didn’t want to work with Wu Mo anymore?”
“Right. There could have been all sorts of reasons: Wu Mo was afraid, both factories had survived their crisis, the partners changed their plans, and so on. But the result is clear. For the next several years, Nanfeng Pharmaceuticals had nothing more to do with drugs. Jin Xiaoquan, however, spent a great deal of time in Hua Country. If he wasn’t working with Nanfeng, whom was he working with? Of course, he had a respectable business to maintain, brokering overseas labor placements, but he certainly wasn’t occupied with that alone.”
“We can leave Jin Xiaoquan’s other activities aside for the moment. Three years ago, Wu Mo began manufacturing drugs again, and the second round differed from the first in several ways. First, in that same year Ruan Xingjie suddenly gave up Hutian Hotel and went back to Southeast Asia to retire. Second, Wu Mo was effectively under the control of the security company, which was backed by Jin Xiaoquan. Third, Wu Mo seems to have been coerced into producing drugs this time, and he didn’t even recruit the workers himself.”
“There’s a huge problem here. Why was Wu Mo being forced? Jin Xiaoquan and Wu Mo are both dead, so we can’t question them, but we can reasonably infer that Jin Xiaoquan was coercing him. To what end? On one hand, I think it has something to do with Yunquan Group. Because of Liang Yueze’s investment, we can easily connect Nanfeng Pharmaceuticals to Yunquan. If Nanfeng is implicated, then Yunquan and Liang Yueze are implicated too. But if Yunquan actually has nothing to do with it, the truth has been successfully concealed.”
“On the other hand, and this is the point I really want to make, I’m afraid another drug-production site is hidden in Zhuquan City. The genuine operation. The second round of drug production at Nanfeng was intended to cover for that site.”
Lu Hejing’s expression darkened as he listened. “Following your reasoning, isn’t it possible Nanfeng’s first drug operation was stopped because the people behind it found a more suitable partner?”
“Yes!” Chen Zheng said. “After working with Nanfeng for just over half a year, Jin Xiaoquan found someone better, changed his plans, and made Wu Mo stop. Wu Mo was only too happy to comply. But Wu Mo didn’t know what Jin Xiaoquan was planning. He may have assumed Jin Xiaoquan was leaving Junan City altogether.”
“Then this successor…” Ming Han began.
“You’ve been investigating in Junan City for some time,” Lu Hejing said. “Do you have a lead?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Chen Zheng said, shaking his head, “but there are details we shouldn’t ignore. The Gu Qiang case at Yongshen Law Firm, for instance. Gu Qiang worked for the Heaven-Measuring Ruler. That much is confirmed. His wife, Liao Huaimeng, killed him because he’d been unfaithful with multiple people. The murder itself seems straightforward, and Liao Huaimeng denies that anyone used her. But her legal-aid defense lawyer, Zhou Xijun, vanished after leaving the country. That’s suspicious.”
“Someone was helping Liao Huaimeng behind the scenes,” Lu Hejing said.
“When we first investigated the Gu Qiang case, we had no lead involving drugs, so I didn’t think too deeply about it. Later, I only considered the case alongside the Heaven-Measuring Ruler. Its shadow falls over Gu Qiang’s death, and it’s so entangled with the Azure Sky Cult and the people behind Jin Xiaoquan that it’s hard to say Gu Qiang knew nothing about drug production.”
The three fell silent for a while. Beneath the tangle of clues, it was all too easy to feel exhausted and irritable.
Suddenly, Ming Han said, “Bro, is Director Li still keeping an eye on He Mei?”
Lu Hejing wasn’t nearly as familiar with the Junan cases as Ming Han and Chen Zheng. “He Mei?”
Chen Zheng briefly explained He Mei’s relationships with the suspects and victims in the Weimo Mountain Resort cases, then summarized: “He Mei is not a simple woman. She appears to stand outside the cases, but without her wedding, Si Wei, Dong Jing, and the others wouldn’t have had a reason to gather in Junan City, much less spend New Year’s at Weimo Mountain Resort. She was like an organizer hiding in the shadows. Her relationship with Zhu Yi is complicated too. She was fond of that outstanding student and, for Zhu Yi’s sake, discovered the truth behind her death before the police did. She has a motive to avenge Zhu Yi, but she also strikes me as extremely rational and self-interested, not someone who would act out of revenge.”
“Most importantly, there’s no evidence to prove she was arranging things behind the scenes,” Ming Han added. “We’d done almost everything we could by the time we came back, and Junan police were still watching He Mei.”
“They haven’t found anything,” Chen Zheng said. “But tomorrow… after daybreak, I plan to find an excuse to see her again. If Gu Qiang knew about drug manufacturing, she might have a lead.”
Lu Hejing glanced at the window. It was still pitch-dark outside, but dawn wasn’t far away. “All right. Everyone go get some sleep.”
Chen Zheng and Ming Han glanced at each other.
Lu Hejing got to his feet, then turned back as though he had something left to say.
Ming Han held up his phone. “Director Lu, was there something else?”
Lu Hejing hesitated. “I… need another word with Chen Zheng.”
Ming Han was a little surprised. Did that mean he was supposed to leave? But this was his phone.
Lu Hejing took the phone and walked to the window. Chen Zheng evidently didn’t understand either. “Director Lu… Little Uncle?”
Lu Hejing coughed. “Your mom called me. Yesterday.”
Chen Zheng was surprised. “What?”
The Lu siblings had always been awkward with each other. According to Lu Hejun, Lu Hejing had been adorable as a child, running after her all day crying, “Big Sister! Big Sister!” After he’d decided to become a police officer, he’d constantly talked about protecting his sister.
But as he grew up, Lu Hejing had become distant from everyone in the family. In the earlier years, Lu Hejun had tried to boss him around on the strength of being his elder sister, but he’d had little patience for that. After Lu Hejun started her own family, she naturally had less attention to spare for her younger brother.
These past few years, communication between the siblings had depended almost entirely on Chen Zheng. Whenever he went home, Lu Hejun asked what Lu Hejing had been doing and how his health was. If she had anything to tell her brother, she asked Chen Zheng to pass it along.
So why had Lu Hejun called Lu Hejing this time?
“It’s about the Liang family,” Lu Hejing said, frowning out of habit. “She didn’t feel she could ask you, so she asked me.”
Chen Zheng’s heart sank. Ming Han had heard too, and he glanced at Lu Hejing’s back.
“My mom… what did she say?” Chen Zheng asked.
“Nothing much. The investigation into Yunquan Group can’t be kept secret, can it? Not just your mother. Anyone watching the news knows. I couldn’t possibly give her the details, so we just chatted a little. She said…”
Lu Hejing stopped, wearing an odd expression. Chen Zheng hurriedly asked, “What’s wrong?”
Lu Hejing shook his head. “Nothing. I just wanted to tell you your mom is quite concerned about the Liang family. If she comes to you about it, don’t lose your temper with her. She’s a civilian. She doesn’t understand all our rules.”
Chen Zheng was completely bewildered, but agreed.
Lu Hejing had nothing more to say and ended the call. Then, as he handed Ming Han the phone, he paused, apparently realizing only now that he shouldn’t have hung up. “Call him back yourself.”
Ming Han: “…”
Lu Hejing strode toward the door, then added one last warning. “Don’t talk too long. I’ve got assignments for you after you’ve slept.”
Ming Han: “…”
Ming Han didn’t call Chen Zheng back. He sat in the office for a while, unable to sleep, so he made himself a cup of coffee and went to supervise Technical Investigation’s work.
On the other side, Chen Zheng stared at his phone, lost in thought. If it was all about the Liang family, why had Lu Hejun called Lu Hejing instead of her own son? Had she found it difficult to bring up with him? Had she thought he would be upset? And what had Lu Hejing almost said, only to swallow the words?
During the meeting, Lu Hejing had been so good at communicating with his team. How did he suddenly become so tongue-tied when the subject was family?
Chen Zheng’s thoughts had been consumed by the case, but now this little family complication had intruded, and the more he considered it, the more it bothered him. He tried putting himself in Lu Hejun’s place. The Lu and Liang families had been close for generations. Apart from Lu Hejing, who had almost cut himself off from the family, every member of the Lu family had dealings with the Liangs. In her youth, Lu Hejun had been as close as sisters to Liang Yueze’s aunt, Liang Huiting. Liang Xinqing was the Liang family’s cherished little princess. Lu Hejun had envied them terribly, often saying she wished she could have a daughter too. When disaster struck the Liang family years ago, she shed nearly as many tears as they did.
Now Liang Yueze and Yunquan Group were being investigated, Lu Hejun was bound to worry. She’d once thought Liang Yueze an unruly brat who couldn’t compare to Liang Yubin in any way. After watching how he’d transformed himself over the years, she felt a great deal of sympathy for him.
Chen Zheng had never asked, but he knew the Lu family must have helped Liang Yueze in the past.
With the police investigating Yunquan, Lu Hejun surely knew more than ordinary viewers of the news. Her first reaction was probably, How could Liang Yueze be involved in something like this? There must be a mistake!
She wouldn’t want Liang Yueze to suffer another calamity. She wanted to find out what was happening in her own way. Asking her son would have been easiest, but this same son had suffered an incident of his own two years earlier. After turning it over in her mind, she’d decided to ask Lu Hejing instead.
And what could Lu Hejing have told her?
Chen Zheng leaned back and closed his eyes, overcome by an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Did Lu Hejun know that he was the one who had pushed for the investigation into Yunquan Group? He didn’t want to quarrel with his mother over Liang Yueze, and she must have her own reservations.
At daybreak, Chen Zheng still hadn’t slept. This small family incident had genuinely unsettled him. After thinking it over, he decided to clear the air before going out to work.
Lu Hejun rarely received calls from Chen Zheng in the morning. When her phone rang, she was having breakfast with Old Chen. She hurried to pick it up. Old Chen gave her a puzzled look. Nervously, she pointed at the screen and gestured. “Our son!”
“Then answer it.” Old Chen couldn’t understand why she was so anxious. “What’s he going to do, eat you?”
Lu Hejun thought Old Chen didn’t understand a thing. She went into the study to answer. “Zhengzheng, do you have the day off?”
“Mom,” Chen Zheng said. “Little Uncle told me about your call to him.”