Yu Bai returned to Red at one o’clock in the morning.
The club was at its rowdiest peak, with rhythmically intense music pounding from the speakers straight into one’s eardrums, cheers and shouts ringing out endlessly. She pushed through the throng of wildly dancing revelers and rode the elevator all the way to the top floor.
She shoved open the door and flung herself into the chair in front of her desk. Spread across the desk was the complete file on Zhou Hui that Zhao Min had given her. Yu Bai sat there at the desk for a long time, mustering no courage to open it.
The wall clock marched on, second by ticking second, like a traveler who never grew weary and refused to pause for anyone.
Yu Bai let out a deep, deep sigh and finally tore open the file folder.
Xi Ye, police officer from mainland China, solver of multiple cross-border drug cases, perished in May 1993 within Shan State, Myanmar…
The contents surged before her eyes. She felt those ancient, profoundly buried memories bursting forth like a floodgate suddenly unleashed. Yu Bai instinctively squeezed her eyes shut, and before her bloomed vast fields of poppy flowers—those beautiful yet innately sinful blossoms radiating magnificent, brilliant hues beneath the golden sunlight and an endless expanse of deep blue sky.
In the distance stood the magnificent Great Golden Pagoda, its deep, resonant bell tolls echoing solemnly, as if its sacred radiance quietly cloaked the surrounding evil.
A child of five or six, clad in a skirt of vibrant colors, sat barefoot on the steps below the Great Golden Pagoda, beaming innocent smiles at the passersby.
Now and then, someone would toss a low-denomination bill into the bowl at her feet, prompting the child to chirp a milky “thank you” in Burmese.
One dusky evening, as the worshippers thinned out, the child counted the money in her bowl, flashed a satisfied smile, and moved to stand and head home.
As she rose, her peripheral vision caught sight of a figure. The child’s gaze shifted in an instant—if anyone had seen it then, they would have felt a chill down their spine. This was no expression for a five- or six-year-old: her face darkened, her pitch-black eyes sharp as a hawk spotting prey. She lowered her head and advanced toward the figure in the dimming twilight, counting off her steps: five, four, three, two…
Suddenly, a hand patted the child’s shoulder from behind. The child swiftly concealed the dagger already gripped in her hand, whipped around, and flashed a sweet smile at the person behind her. “Is there something you need?”
The child realized this was a strikingly beautiful woman: tall and slender, with neat short hair and dimples framing her smile. Speaking in halting Burmese, the woman said, “Little Sister, do you know where I can find a place to stay nearby?”
The child eyed the woman warily, while also spotting people quietly closing in from all directions. Half-narrowing her eyes, she muttered a Burmese curse under her breath, then turned tail and bolted.
Several people sprang after her, but the woman called out, “Don’t chase her! Don’t stir up a big fuss—it’s just a kid.”
A man replied, “But she was about to kill someone just now—didn’t you see?”
“Never mind…”
…
Perhaps due to the dim lighting, Yu Bai’s usually soft and delicate features now took on a razor-sharp edge, like something carved by a blade. Her eyes brimmed with icy chill, her lashes seemingly dusted with frost. That inscrutable, unfathomable aura grew ever more intense.
Narrowing her eyes, she traced a fingertip over the photo of Xi Ye in her police uniform and murmured, “It really is you…”
The next day, the City Bureau Criminal Investigation Team and Narcotics Squad officially joined forces on the case.
On her first day at the City Bureau to assist with the investigation, Zhao Min brought leads pointing to suspects. Seated around the conference room’s oval table, she pointed at two photos on the large screen. “On the left: Ji Shen, formerly of the Provincial Bureau’s criminal police. On the right: Shao Yuan, formerly an undercover operative with the Special Duty Squad.”
No sooner had Zhao Min finished than the conference room exploded in uproar.
“What does that mean?” Zhou Hui asked with a furrowed brow. “What’s their connection to the case?”
Zhao Min rapped her knuckles on Wu Guojiang’s file lying on the table—one copy per person, distributed for ease of investigation. She knew full well how difficult it had been to obtain this material and swallowed her irritation with Zhou Hui before replying, “Wu Guojiang’s file has a two-year blank spot. Does Officer Zhou remember?”
Zhou Hui nodded. Of course she did—she had specifically asked Yu Bai about it that very night after receiving the file.
Zhao Min pressed on, “For a drug courier like Wu Guojiang, someone always fabricates a new identity for them behind the scenes. It’s like slipping on a vest: peel it off, and you see what’s really underneath.”
Zhao Min’s analogy was vivid. For those who prowled the shadows, a fake identity offered superb cover—the key was how deeply buried the puppet master remained.
“There won’t be a blank gap in the records without reason. The only explanation is that what he was doing back then needed to be concealed. Given Wu Guojiang’s intricate connections to narcotics, I pulled every drug-related file from Pingling City during that blank period. In the end, two cases stood out as unsolved and without resolution: the 725 Case and the Shao Yuan Case. I’m more inclined to believe the Shao Yuan Case is linked to Wu Guojiang.”
Zhou Hui found Zhao Min’s approach to the case refreshingly novel. “Any evidence for that? Like similarities between the two cases?”
“There is.” Zhao Min switched the large screen to the next page. At the center was the mutilated corpse of a man whose arms and legs had been hacked off, his face grotesquely swollen—likely from prolonged immersion in water—rendering his features unrecognizable. The background showed a riverbank downstream from one of Pingling City’s waterways. Zhao Min said calmly, “This is Shao Yuan.”
“!”
Yang Pingfan lifted his head from the computer screen. A flicker of change crossed his usually impassive, expressionless face. He looked at Zhao Min. “Impossible. Half a month ago, I searched the archives. There was no similar case.”
“The one you checked…”
“Xiao Zhao.” Zhao Min had just begun to explain when Zhang Yunan called her name. He gestured for her to hold off. Then he turned to Han Wei. “Han Wei, pull things together here… Xiao Zhao, Zhou Hui, you two step out.”
Sun Ye craned his neck to watch them leave the conference room, then turned back to Han Wei with a puzzled look. “What just happened? Can someone fill me in?”
Han Wei adopted a profoundly enigmatic expression before claiming he had no idea. He clapped Yang Pingfan on the shoulder. “Fanfan, your words really hit hard, don’t they?”
Yang Pingfan sat at his computer, hesitating for a moment before replying, “I was only speaking the truth. I couldn’t find the case Officer Xiao Zhao mentioned.”
“Couldn’t find it? No way. You’re the bureau’s computer wizard.” Sun Ye said.
Yang Pingfan shook his head, adjusted his glasses, and said, “This has nothing to do with computer skills. The bureau’s archive database is finite—there’s no possibility of missing something. Officer Xiao Zhao’s information didn’t come from the archives.”
Han Wei picked up on the implication: the source was improper.
That was why Zhang Yunan had intervened so quickly. Zhou Hui followed Zhang Yunan out of the conference room in bewilderment. It wasn’t until they reached the office that Zhang Yunan spoke. “Xiao Zhao, I won’t pry into your Narcotics Control team’s intelligence sources. But the Shao Yuan Case was escalated to the Provincial Bureau two years ago. You couldn’t obtain such comprehensive files through regular channels.”
Zhao Min remained silent. The Shao Yuan Case files had been given to her by Yu Bai the night before. At first, Yu Bai had only given her a lead, which she hadn’t thought much of. But as she was leaving, she had shoved a folder into her hands with a smile. “Playing fair. Don’t accuse me of favoring Zhou Hui.”
Seeing Zhao Min’s silence, Zhang Yunan sighed. “Xiao Zhao, cracking cases is great, but don’t cut corners. Drop the Shao Yuan Case and try a different angle. Alright, you can go now.”
Zhang Yunan had been a criminal investigator for decades. He had seen far too many people and handled far too many cases. The examples of those who resorted to any means to solve a case were still fresh in his mind. Due to the nature of their work, detectives interacted mostly with colleagues and criminals, engaging in constant battles of wits that demanded ironclad mental resilience.
Sometimes, confronting psychopathic killers could erode the resolve of those without sufficient inner strength. They might cloak themselves in the banner of justice and good intentions, determined to catch a murderer and deliver righteous punishment. In the end, however, they became just like the criminals they hunted.
Zhou Hui still had no idea why she had been summoned. She was about to speak when Zhang Yunan continued.
“You’re in the same boat. What I just said applies to you too. I have no issue with you developing informants—but know when to stop.”
Zhou Hui sensed that Zhang Yunan was deliberately concealing something crucial. The Wu Guojiang case had been stymied from the start, yielding no leads, and every time they uncovered even a hint, it was shut down midway.
“What’s the deal with the Shao Yuan Case? Is it connected to Wu Guojiang’s?”
Zhang Yunan replied, “I told you not to pursue it, and you’re still asking. I called you here for something else. Yu Bai’s people keep pressing us to handle the Reporting Hotline Incident.”
Zhang Yunan felt helpless about it himself. It was some punk abusing public resources with bogus hotline reports. It had already wasted police manpower with two trips to the Red Club, and nabbing a suspect had only piled more trouble on his plate. Yu Bai’s private attorney was constantly shipping materials to the Provincial Bureau to sue the City Bureau. He demanded they swiftly crack the reporting case, unmask the true culprit, and deliver justice to upstanding citizens. It gave Zhang Yunan a constant headache. The funds wired to Jiang Tong’s account had come from an overseas source—tracing it was no easy task. And now, with the River Channel Murder Case heating up, he had to divert even more energy there.
“Jiang Tong? Have you tracked down the overseas account?”
Zhang Yunan nodded. “It’s Yan Mingchang. Bet you didn’t see that coming! Over the past couple of days, while digging into him, we discovered that his overseas account is the same one that wired fifty thousand yuan to Jiang Tong. And there’s surveillance footage showing one of Yan Mingchang’s employees hanging around Jiang Tong’s place on the very day he got that tip-off note. Go drop these files off with her.”
Zhou Hui felt a twinge of irritation at being reduced to some young lady’s errand runner, despite her position as captain of the City Bureau’s Criminal Investigation Team. Still, she accepted it—Yu Bai had provided substantial help on the current case, even if her motives were far from pure.
She stepped out of the office, intending to track down Yu Bai right away and pump her for more details on Yan Mingchang. Dialing the number, she heard Yu Bai’s voice, bright and cheerful. “Officer Zhou? What’s going on?”
Zhou Hui laid out the details of the reporting hotline incident in a few crisp sentences. There was a brief silence on the other end before Yu Bai replied apologetically, “Sorry, Officer Zhou, I’ve got plans today. Rain check?”
Zhou Hui pocketed her phone just as she reached the City Bureau’s front doors. She was about to head back to the conference room when she spotted Zhao Min lingering outside.
“Why aren’t you in the conference room?”
Zhao Min flashed a quick smile and jerked her thumb toward Bureau Chief Zhang’s office. “That’s all the material I brought, and he shot it all down. No new leads anyway—Yan’s already under investigation, right? What’s to discuss? We’ll wait for their update.”
Zhou Hui raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you doing out here…”
“Waiting for you!”
“For me?”
Zhao Min’s grin widened as she waved the files in her hand. “Yep. Because I know Officer Zhou’s got to be curious about the Shao Yuan case.”
Zhou Hui didn’t respond—Zhao Min’s silence on the matter already spoke volumes. With a tilt of her chin, Zhao Min added, “Come on, Officer Zhou. Let’s grab a spot and talk.”
Zhou Hui checked her phone, then nodded briskly. “All right. Hop in.”
She chose a coffee shop tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, its ambiance serene and understated. Cool-toned decor was softened by warm amber lights, and a gentle violin melody drifted from hidden speakers. Best of all, it was nearly empty—a perfect spot for a private conversation.
They settled at a table, each ordering a coffee. Zhou Hui wasted no time; efficiency was her style. “What do you want to say?”
Zhao Min cut straight to it.
“Shao Yuan was an undercover operative dispatched by the Narcotics Control Special Operations Team. I don’t know the exact posting. But two years ago, during the 725 case, team leader Ji Shen suddenly defected to the drug traffickers. Soon after, more than a dozen undercover officers were killed—including Shao Yuan.”
Zhou Hui’s knowledge of the 725 case was superficial at best, and she’d never even heard of the Shao Yuan case. What had really gone down in Pingling City two years earlier, while she was tied up with that cross-border investigation?
“The fallout was massive. Families of the undercover agents were placed under protection to guard against retaliation. But Shao Yuan slipped through the cracks—either the intel reached him too late, or there was a screw-up in the risk assessment. His family wasn’t prioritized. Three days before his body turned up, all five members of his household were butchered, down to his four-year-old daughter.”
Zhou Hui’s face darkened. A chill of foreboding settled over her.
Zhao Min met her gaze steadily. “And you’re spot on with what you’re thinking. The autopsy showed signs of sexual assault on the little girl, but no semen was recovered. Second point of similarity to our case.”
“Were you on the Shao Yuan investigation back then?” Zhou Hui asked.
Zhao Min shrugged, reading the implication. “Nope. Which is why I’ve got so many questions.”
Bureau Chief Zhang’s warning suddenly made perfect sense—Zhao Min’s intel sources were shady, no doubt about it.
Yet she brushed it off without a care, unconcerned about anyone sniffing out her questionable methods. Her eyes sparkled with defiance, her smile bold and unapologetic, the picture of someone begging for a punch. Zhou Hui frowned, and inexplicably, Yu Bai sprang to mind.
Smiling still, Zhao Min pressed on. “That’s why I need Officer Zhou to help fill in the blanks. The lead on the Shao Yuan case back then… was your father, Zhou Boyan.”
