Ji Dashun came back from the grocery store with a case of beer. In the kitchen, Song Hongyu had just finished prepping vegetables when Deng Ligang ordered her to switch places with Shi Bi in the bathroom. He complained her dishes were too watery and wasted good ingredients.
Song Hongyu had never cared for cooking or other traditional women's work. She practically bounced to the bedroom, pulled open a drawer, and slipped a silver bracelet onto her wrist before heading to the bathroom to relieve Shi Bi.
Inside, Song Hongyu brandished a knife at Qiu Feng and Zhen Zhen, forcing them to strip and get in the bathtub. She bundled their clothes and threw them in the corner. The two women huddled there naked - one large, one small - their faces drawn and bodies marked with injuries.
Song Hongyu played with the knife, twirling it with practiced ease. Zhen Zhen tracked every movement, waiting for what would come next.
Stopping abruptly, Song Hongyu pressed the knife tip to Zhen Zhen's forehead. "You know, something about you nagged at me from the start. Couldn't place it at first, but now I get it - you're just like that Huang Ying girl. Stubborn as they come. Like a boiled duck - the meat gets soft but that beak stays hard. I had to teach her the hard way that knives beat sharp tongues. Cut that bitch up so bad there was nothing left but guts."
Her laugh sent chills down Qiu Feng's spine, those white teeth gleaming. Zhen Zhen's chest burned with rage as she glared at her tormentor.
"What, trying to kill me with those eyes?" Song Hongyu mocked. "Funny thing - Huang Ying claimed this bracelet was some precious family heirloom. Figure that makes it valuable. But I kept it instead of selling it. My little souvenir."
She slid the bracelet off and forced it onto Zhen Zhen's wrist.
When Zhen Zhen tried to remove it, Song Hongyu jabbed her chest with the knife.
"Don't get excited - it's not a gift. Just want it to taste your blood. Once you're dead, it comes right back to me."
Zhen Zhen struggled until the boning knife left red lines across her chest.
"Try taking it off again," Song Hongyu snarled, "and I'll peel you like a fruit."
Zhen Zhen went still. The bracelet felt wrong against her skin, still warm from Song Hongyu's wrist. Her vision swam. Song Hongyu settled by the tub and yanked Qiu Feng closer by the hair. Qiu Feng squeezed her eyes shut in terror.
After studying Qiu Feng's face, Song Hongyu asked, "Who's prettier - you or me?"
Qiu Feng started crying. Song Hongyu raised the knife and the sobs died in her throat.
Lowering the blade, Song Hongyu asked, "Know why I beat you?"
Qiu Feng stared at her blankly, shaking her head.
"Because when I look at you," Song Hongyu said with unexpected sincerity, "I see myself, years ago."
The unexpected confession made Zhen Zhen look up, studying Song Hongyu's face.
"It gets boring, you know - always surrounded by men, no one to really talk to. Since we're all women here, I might as well tell you my story. Not like you'll be sharing it with anyone, anyway."
Zhen Zhen and Qiu Feng kept their heads down, silent.
Song Hongyu leaned back against the wall, her voice growing distant. "I'm from Huayuan County. Lost my mom to breast cancer when I was fourteen. We sold everything - the house, the land. Borrowed money left and right for her treatment. Didn't help. By fifteen, I was working whatever jobs I could find to pay off our debts. Washed hair at salons, sold fruit in the market, walked dogs - anything that paid.
Every penny I made went straight home. Then at eighteen, I met this coal boss. Seemed like a godsend - gave me money, helped me take care of my father and brother. We lived together six months before his wife showed up. She dragged my name through the mud, took every cent I'd saved, called it 'compensation for emotional damage.' That coal boss just stood there, didn't say a word in my defense. Then he went back to Shanxi with her."
She shifted against the wall. "Someone told me about promoting at bars. Flexible hours, 200 yuan per night, just a few times a week. They always held back some pay to keep us coming back. We'd meet at eight, split into groups for different areas. Had to wear thick makeup, high heels. The job was drinking with customers, playing games, or pretending to be regular customers when business was slow. Got all types in there - college kids, married men."
"That's where I met Deng Ligang. He noticed me - said I looked fashionable, pretty. Started buying whatever expensive drinks I pushed. Gold chain, fancy watch - looked loaded. Shi Bi was with him, quiet type but nice to women. I brought over a glass to drink with them, ordered a dozen beers. Deng Ligang said they had drinks already. I told him that wouldn't be enough if I was drinking too.
Got him in a good mood, let me drink at their table. Finished most of those beers in thirty minutes. When he stopped ordering, I suggested a dice game. Said he didn't know how to play, so I taught him. I'd been trained - quick hands, smooth moves. Deng Ligang knew I was cheating but kept quiet. We drank till midnight, three rounds. When the money ran out and he stopped ordering, I made my exit."
"They came back the next night. I went over, all smiles, pushing drinks again. Told them straight: 'None of us are real beer promoters. We drink with customers every night, get them spending more, play dice. Win or lose, someone's drinking. When it's gone, they buy more. That's the game. We make way more than waitresses.'"
"After closing, Deng Ligang invited me for tea. I went. Then he asked me back to his place. It was one of those fancy complexes I'd always dreamed about living in. The elevator went straight to the top. Place was spotless, had this weird smell I can't describe. Shi Bi got me a Coke from the fridge, grabbed one for himself. After I finished mine, I felt weird, tried to leave. Collapsed right outside. Deng Ligang was dragging me back in when someone came up the stairs."
"Woke up the next morning tied to a bed. Figured out pretty quick what had happened. Deng Ligang yanked me up, demanded money. Told him I had none. He brought up my bar earnings. Said I'd sent it all home. He told me to call home for money. Told him we didn't have a phone or money. That's when he said I'd never leave alive."
"My legs gave out. Shi Bi tried helping me up. Said I just needed a minute. Kept my head down, crying, making little pools on the floor. Deng Ligang just smoked, watching like it was some show. I looked up and asked how I'd die. That threw him - said I wasn't reacting like his usual victims."
"'However you want,' he said. Shi Bi gave him a look, asked if I needed help. I said no. Deng Ligang laughed, tossed me a boning knife. Bragged about learning martial arts at Wutai Mountain as a kid. Said even with another knife, five of me couldn't take him. I said, 'What's death? Been living in hell anyway, wanting to die. Close my eyes and it's over - no more responsibilities, no more scraping for money.' Sat up, rolled my sleeve, stared at my wrist."
"Shi Bi asked if I was scared to die. Told him life's just a breath, nothing special. Put the knife to my wrist, made like I was going to cut. Deng Ligang pointed out I had the wrong spot. Came over, moved my hand to the artery. I looked at him and cut deep. Blood sprayed everywhere. He waited for me to beg. I just closed my eyes, let it drip.
Shi Bi said, 'I see the hate in you. Die like this, you won't rest easy.' I said, 'Of course I hate.' He asked who. I said, 'You, him, myself, men, women, the whole damn world.' Deng Ligang grabbed a towel, started bandaging me. I opened my eyes, asked what he was doing. He said, 'Work with me. We'll take down everyone you hate.'"
"Later, I asked why he saved me. Said, 'You've got guts, woman. If you're this cruel to yourself, you must be worse to others. Having a woman lure people back makes everything easier.'"
"That's how I started. Deng Ligang liked that I was bold, fearless, wouldn't bow down. I'd bring people from clubs, he'd handle the rest. Women don't see me as a threat. Never missed a target. He paid off my family's debts, gave me the life I wanted, the love I needed.
He let everything dark inside me come out - no morals, no feelings, no limits. Said after this job, we'd move to another city, live it up. I wasn't grateful. Said, 'Another damn city, another damn house.' He asked what I wanted. I said, 'Go home.' Threatened to kill my father and brother if I left.
Said two more wouldn't matter after all we'd done. I asked why not just kill me. He said straight up, 'Because I like you.' Asked if he'd get rid of me when he stopped liking me. He just smiled. 'Once you're in, you're in for life. Better make sure I keep liking you.'"
Zhen Zhen and Qiu Feng felt their skin crawl. What kind of monster stood before them?
Shi Bi pushed the door open, glanced at them in the tub, and set down two bottles of Coke.
"Food ready?" Song Hongyu asked.
"Eight minutes left on the steamed fish. Go eat," Shi Bi replied.
Song Hongyu followed him out, clicking the bathroom lock shut behind her.
Qiu Feng broke down, realizing she'd never leave alive. Zhen Zhen, younger and less worldly, stayed calmer, her eyes scanning the room.
She took in every detail: the meat grinder in the corner, a loose tile under the bathtub hiding a drain access, a narrow window at head height on the far wall, the bolt on the door. Hope flickered, her mind racing. She shook her head hard, trying to clear it.
Qiu Feng's sobs quieted. She climbed out of the water, reaching for one of the Cokes.
"Don't," Zhen Zhen grabbed it. "It's drugged."
"I know," Qiu Feng said. "But we're dead anyway. Does it matter how?"
She snatched the bottle back and took a sip. Zhen Zhen grabbed it and dumped both bottles onto the floor.
Around the dining table, Deng Ligang, Shi Bi, Ji Dashun, and Song Hongyu ate and drank.
"Quite a spread today," Ji Dashun remarked.
"Need our strength later," Deng Ligang said. "Good food, good energy."
He turned to Ji Dashun, giving his neck an affectionate pat.
"Look who learned some tricks. Spotting that police trap - let's drink to that, brother."
Ji Dashun preened. "My name means something, you know. Ji for auspicious, Dashun for smooth sailing. I'm just lucky like that."
"Lucky my ass," Song Hongyu cut in. "Back in Yanhuicheng, if the boss hadn't been watching, that skull would've caused real trouble."
The reminder deflated Ji Dashun. He hunched over his plate, pushing food around.
"Your head's full of holes," Deng Ligang said. "Always chasing money and women. Last year you fell for that young girl, wanted to take her traveling."
"Hey Dashun," Shi Bi prodded, "what was so special about her?"
"Great rack, perfect ass, lips soft as noodles."
Shi Bi burst out laughing.
"Come on, I was just getting to the good part," Ji Dashun sulked.
"You idiot," Deng Ligang said. "Too busy slurping noodles to see her eyes. That girl had a temper, couldn't be controlled. She could've ruined everything."
"Remember," Shi Bi added, "women are like train stations - you pass through. Money's what matters. Beautiful women spell trouble. Ignore the boss, and it's not just trouble - it's death."
Ji Dashun went quiet, slurping his soup. A woman's sobs carried through the walls. He set down his spoon. "Who's crying?"
"The Qiu woman," Song Hongyu sneered. "The young one's tougher."
Death felt more abstract to Zhen Zhen than to Qiu Feng, who had eight more years of life behind her. The bathwater had gone cold. Zhen Zhen climbed out, pulled on her bra and shorts from the pile. The chill seeped from her skin to her bones. Qiu Feng perched on the tub's edge, crying harder and harder. Zhen Zhen wrapped a towel around her shoulders, held her close, patted her back. Qiu Feng clung to her, sobbing loudly until Zhen Zhen's own tears started falling.
Deng Ligang slammed the table, rising to silence them. The doorbell froze him mid-step. He caught Song Hongyu's eye. She grabbed the boning knife and rushed to the bathroom.
The landlords stood outside. After knocking with no answer, they pulled out their key. As the door opened, Deng Ligang went to greet them, Shi Bi close behind. The male landlord's eyes swept over their faces.
"Why didn't anyone answer when we rang?" he demanded.
"Sorry about that. My brother's visiting. We had a few drinks, fell asleep, didn't hear the bell," Deng Ligang said apologetically.
"Tenant downstairs says their bathroom ceiling's leaking. Could be bad waterproofing. Need to check. If it's our fault, we'll have to tear up the floor, redo everything," the landlord said.
"Can't right now - my wife's in the bath. Let's check downstairs first, see if it's coming from us."
In the bathroom, Song Hongyu pressed the knife against Zhen Zhen and Qiu Feng, ordering them quiet. She listened to the footsteps fade, then stepped out to check, locking the door behind her. Zhen Zhen jumped from the tub, slammed the bolt shut. She grabbed the loose tile and smashed it against the narrow window. Glass shattered, wind rushed in.
Song Hongyu had barely reached the front door when she heard breaking glass. She ran back, tried the key. The bolt held. She grabbed an axe, ready to break it down, but the landlord's voice carried up from below. Fearing the noise would draw attention, she locked the door again. Ji Dashun emerged from the bedroom. "Where's that glass break?"
"Bathroom. Bitches locked themselves in."
"Better tell the boss. I'll wait in the car like always. Call when it's clear," Ji Dashun said.
They left together.
The front door slammed. Qiu Feng jumped from the tub, tried climbing to the window. Her elbows barely reached the sill - not enough strength to pull up.
"It's too narrow. Even if I got up, couldn't squeeze through," she said, despair written on her face.
"I can fit," Zhen Zhen said.
"This isn't ground level. What can you do out there?" Qiu Feng asked weakly.
"Scream for help. Even if I fall, people will see and call police."
Qiu Feng nodded, crouched down. Zhen Zhen stepped onto her trembling shoulders. She pulled herself onto the sill, forced through the narrow opening. Broken glass sliced her skin, blood flowing freely.
Downstairs, Deng Ligang and Shi Bi were discussing the leak when Song Hongyu whispered in his ear. He immediately turned to the landlord. "Check again carefully. Got guests waiting upstairs."
He tugged Shi Bi, all three leaving together.
Zhen Zhen squeezed through, spotted an air conditioner frame welded nearby. She crawled over, slowly stood. Nearly 200 meters down. Cold and terror made her shake uncontrollably. The next apartment's air conditioner sat more than a meter away.
She decided to risk it. People exercising below noticed her. Word spread fast, faces turned upward. The bloody figure swayed on the frame. Voices shouted not to jump. Someone called police about a suicide attempt.
Zhen Zhen leaped, landed on the next unit. Swayed twice, nearly fell. Gasps rose from below. She steadied herself, found a half-brick, smashed the window, crawled in. Ji Dashun saw it all, knew it had gone bad. He bolted from the complex.
The apartment was empty. Zhen Zhen spotted a phone, dialed 110. Heard screaming - her own voice. Forced herself calmer, though still shaking. "I've been kidnapped! Escaped to the next apartment. Another woman's still locked in the bathroom. Please hurry!" She broke down crying, deaf to the operator's questions.
Zhen Zhen hurled the phone away and broke into tears. She grabbed a man's cardigan from the sofa, throwing it on before rushing to the entryway. There, she slipped into a pair of men's sneakers from the shoe rack and bolted out the door. The realization hit her - she was on the top floor. Below, she could hear the chaos of footsteps thundering up the stairs and the elevator racing upward.
They were all coming for her - she knew it. Going down the stairs wasn't an option. She retreated into the apartment she'd just left, locking the door behind her. Her heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe as she pressed her eye to the peephole. There stood Deng Ligang at the neighboring door, reaching for his key. Just then, the elevator arrived. Two security guards stepped out, immediately spotting Deng Ligang.
"Someone reported a woman attempting to jump from this building," the larger guard said.
"Did she?" Deng Ligang's voice cracked with surprise.
"She broke the glass but crawled back inside," the guard replied.
Deng Ligang's voice steadied. "Couldn't have been my place. My wife's downstairs."
The thinner guard approached Zhen Zhen's hiding place and knocked. She held perfectly still, barely daring to breathe. She knew what Deng Ligang was capable of - the guards wouldn't be enough to stop him. She couldn't risk opening that door.
"No one's home," the thin guard concluded. "Let's check your place. We need to report back."
Deng Ligang patted his pockets. "Left my key. Need to get my wife's downstairs."
The guards joined him in the elevator, and Zhen Zhen listened as it descended. The moment it was gone, she flung open the door and half-ran, half-tumbled down the stairs.
Outside, a police car had pulled into the community, drawing a crowd. Three officers emerged, and one addressed the burly guard: "We got a call about a kidnapping. The IP traced to this community - Building 8, Unit 1, Room 3001. The caller mentioned another woman locked in a bathroom next door."
The guard turned to question Deng Ligang, but he'd vanished. Shi Bi and Song Hongyu had already fled. Zhen Zhen burst out of the building, spotting the crowd around the police car. They represented safety - her salvation. She sprinted toward them.
The arm that seized her waist came out of nowhere, hard as steel. Another hand clamped over her mouth. Like a lover restraining an hysterical girlfriend, her captor dragged her through a ground-floor shop's back door. A hairdresser stood smoking outside, watching the scene unfold. The struggling pair passed right by him.
Something caught his attention - the woman was tiny, drowning in a man's jacket. Men's sneakers flopped on her feet, and her bare legs were streaked with blood. Her eyes blazed with terror above the hand covering her mouth. The hairdresser took a few steps after them, but Deng Ligang's knife-sharp glare stopped him cold.
Ji Dashun's idling car waited roadside. Shi Bi and Song Hongyu were already inside. Seeing Deng Ligang dragging Zhen Zhen down the back street, Ji Dashun drove to meet them. He jumped out, yanked open the trunk, stuffed a rag in Zhen Zhen's mouth, and shoved her inside. The locks clicked shut. Deng Ligang slid into the passenger seat, exhaling deeply as he tucked his dagger from his sleeve into his boot. The car tore away. This escape felt more desperate than ever - they'd abandoned their loot and left Qiu Feng to the police.
"Looks like a rabbit, acts like a wolf," Deng Ligang snarled. "She's not getting away this time. Once we're safe, I'll cut her to pieces myself. Feed her to wild dogs."
"Where's safe?" Ji Dashun asked.
"Get on the highway."
In the trunk, Zhen Zhen rolled with each turn, fighting dizziness. She curled up, bound hands searching behind her back. Sweat soaked through her clothes in the confined space. Her fingers found a handle, and she gripped it like salvation itself.
The surveillance footage showed a car with plate XXX stopping at dozens of ATMs. It was our strongest lead yet. The vehicle was last spotted near Heye Community in Luan City - finally, we were closing in on Deng Ligang.
Then came the call from Luan City Police. A kidnapping victim had contacted emergency services. They traced the call to Room 3001, Unit 1, Building 8 in Heye Community. The car and suspect descriptions matched. I rushed toward Heye Community without wasting a second.
Ji Dashun was speeding when the light ahead turned red. He couldn't stop in time and slammed into a car crossing on green. His vehicle jumped the curb, hit a tree, and died. The engine wouldn't turn over. Deng Ligang and Shi Bi jumped out to push while Ji Dashun tried the ignition again. Finally, it started.
As Ji Dashun turned the wheel, with Deng Ligang and Shi Bi reaching for their doors, Zhen Zhen yanked the trunk handle with everything she had. The lid flew open and she tumbled onto the road. Tires screeched all around her. Deng Ligang spotted her in the mirror and screamed, "Stop! Stop!" Ji Dashun slammed the brakes and Deng Ligang bolted toward her.
I was approaching from the opposite direction when I saw it unfold. That was Deng Ligang! I eased off the gas and Yang Bo leaped from the passenger seat.
Deng Ligang saw the tide turning and ran back to the car. Ji Dashun floored it, the trunk still hanging open as they shot away.
Rage filled me as I stomped the accelerator, chasing them down. In my mirror, I glimpsed Yang Bo trying to help Zhen Zhen. She was thrashing and fighting - that told me she'd made it. All I could focus on now were those monsters ahead of me.
I was gaining on them when a loaded truck pulled out from a side street. Ji Dashun squeezed past it, scraping the side. The truck swerved, its trailer swinging wide. Cardboard boxes crashed onto the road.
I jerked the wheel to dodge the trailer but hit the guardrail. My engine died. Their car vanished in a cloud of dust. I jumped out, cursing uselessly. At the highway intersection, we found their abandoned car. Deng Ligang and his crew had slipped away again.
When we found Qiu Feng, she was broken. She huddled in the corner, trembling. As footsteps approached, she covered her head and squeezed her eyes shut, repeating, "This is a dream, just a dream! Wake up, wake up."
Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Qiu Feng thought the nightmare would never end. A voice called, "Police. Someone called for help - we're here to rescue you."
Qiu Feng couldn't believe it. She stayed curled up, frozen. When they broke down the door, her scream pierced the air. The landlords, seeing her battered body, could barely speak. The husband stammered, "We... we didn't know. We didn't know."
At the hospital, Qiu Feng's nightmares continued. She dreamed of being trapped, surrounded by twisted metal and concrete, gasping for air, trying to scream without sound. She'd wake up panting, feel the IV drip above her, and remember - she was free.
Peng Zhaolin brought Zhen Zhen to Qiu Feng's room. Qiu Feng struggled up, and they held each other, crying into each other's shoulders.
"I thought I'd never see you again," Qiu Feng sobbed.
"We both made it, Sister. I couldn't have escaped without you," Zhen Zhen said through tears.
Peng Zhaolin asked, "You're so young - weren't you scared on the 30th floor?"
"When it's life or death, fear disappears," Zhen Zhen said. "That window next door was my only chance. I told myself, 'Make it across, Zhen Zhen. Live, and Qiu Feng lives too.' I didn't know I could jump like that."
The doctor came in and told Zhen Zhen, "Back to your room now. We still have tests to run."
"How is she?" I asked, looking at Qiu Feng.
"Comminuted fracture of the right frontal bone. Three broken ribs on the left side. The ribs punctured her lung, causing hemopneumothorax. We need more tests to check for other internal injuries," the doctor said.
Zhen Yuling and Hong Xia rushed into the room, overwhelmed at the sight of their daughter. Zhen Zhen was skeletal, covered in wounds, her large eyes sunken deep. Hong Xia clutched her daughter close, her heart breaking, while Zhen Yuling wrapped his arms around them both. The family clung to each other, weeping.
Peng Zhaolin helped Qiu Feng sit up.
Zhen Zhen took her hand. "I'm going back to Xue City as soon as they discharge me. I can't stay here."
"We should both move forward, for our own sake," Qiu Feng said. "Let's forget everything we went through."
"So we'll never see each other again?"
"No contact. No meetings," Qiu Feng said firmly.
Usually, Deng Ligang's gang was meticulous - mopping floors, wiping everything with alcohol, erasing footprints and fingerprints. They'd even spray air freshener before leaving. This time, they'd fled too quickly. The fingerprints we found matched Deng Ligang, Shi Bi, and Ji Dashun from Case 1103, plus a woman's prints, probably Song Hongyu's. This kidnapping now connected directly to the Bishui Garden case in Xue City.
The rescue wasn't a victory. The victims had saved themselves. I felt like a failure - Deng Ligang had slipped away twice. That night, sleep wouldn't come. I kept imagining different ways we could have protected the hostages and caught them. But imagination changed nothing. All we had left was the bank card Zhen Zhen's parents had used, still holding 60,000 yuan.
Deng Ligang knew how to vanish. I was always just behind him. He'd change his phone number at every new location, forcing us to start surveillance from scratch. I lost his trail in Shanxi province, stumbling around like I was blind. The leads went cold. Later, we learned they'd hidden at Mount Wutai. Temples don't check IDs or keep records.
At first, Deng Ligang played the devout Buddhist, praying and burning incense daily for the Bodhisattva's protection. After two weeks, as he relaxed, he noticed the temple's donation boxes overflowing. He saw the head monk, Wenshu, driving a BMW down the mountain. Deng Ligang immediately thought about kidnapping him and discussed it with Shi Bi.
"Watch at 4:30 tomorrow morning," Shi Bi told him. "You'll see."
At dawn, Deng Ligang dragged himself outside. The head monk was leading morning martial arts practice. His disciples moved in perfect formation, their punches sharp, their shouts thunderous. Then the monk demonstrated. He moved like wind, struck like lightning. His movements flowed seamlessly between soft and devastating. Deng Ligang realized ten men couldn't touch this monk. He woke his crew immediately.
"Pack up. We're leaving."
They'd just left in an unlicensed taxi when we arrived, taking the same car up the mountain.
The young driver chatted freely. The group from yesterday had our accent.
"Men or women?" I tensed.
"Three men, one woman. Paid well - even gave me some bodhi beads."
"Did they say where to?"
"Dropped them at the train station before picking up my next passengers for the mountain," the young man said, shaking his head.
The news hit me like ice water. We'd missed them again. At least we had a new lead - the bank card showed activity in Meiling City. Two withdrawals of 20,000 yuan in one day, both by Ji Dashun. We headed there immediately. Lin Hui and I posed as security guards, while Yang Bo and Ge Shoujia played cart pullers. We watched the withdrawal spots around the clock.
A week passed with no activity. Our funds ran dry. The department allowed 85 yuan per day for out-of-town work. The basement room cost 45 yuan, and while local police handled tech support, we still had to cover transport and food. When the allowance wasn't enough, I used my own money. When that ran out, I called for more funds. They told me to come back.
I returned defeated. Chief Jiang met me: "The victims are safe. Mission accomplished. We're swamped with cases and short-staffed. You've been on this too long with no results. Time to shelve it."
"Give me two more weeks and the funding. I'll nail these bastards," I said through clenched teeth.
"That's not how it works. No 'ifs' about it."
The case went cold. I knew it wasn't leadership - we just didn't have the resources to continue.
Zhen Zhen came home alive but broken. Any mention of the kidnapping made her shake uncontrollably, her words becoming jumbled. School terrified her. Strangers terrified her. She drifted through days and battled nightmares at night. Hong Xia blamed herself for her daughter's running away. Zhen Yuling couldn't forgive his wife. Their daughter's rescue hadn't saved their marriage. Now she just stayed in her room, silent. At the hospital, Zhen Yuling described her symptoms: "Racing heart, rapid breathing, can't catch her breath."
"Feeling of suffocation? Doom? Loss of control?" the doctor asked.
"Yes, exactly!"
"Cold sweats? Weakness? Diarrhea?"
"That's right."
"Classic panic attacks," the doctor said, writing a prescription. "Try this for a week. It'll take time."
That night, Hong Xia and Zhen Yuling lay back-to-back, sleepless. Zhen Zhen cried out. After calming her, they returned to bed, shaken.
"Such a good kid. Why did this happen to her?" Zhen Yuling sighed.
"It's all my fault. I want to die. Stop torturing me with words," Hong Xia said.
Zhen Yuling sat up against the headboard. "We've fought about this endlessly. Has it helped? The psychologist said a new place would be best. Somewhere nobody knows her past. Let her heal. Let us heal."
Hong Xia sat up too. "Our home is here. Where else?"
"Our hometown. My parents want us back."
"The mortgage isn't paid off. We can't just leave."
"We'll rent it out, use that for payments. I've decided. If you won't come, I'll take Zhen Zhen myself. I've found work, and school's arranged. We caused this. We owe her this much."
Hong Xia stared at him silently. A week later, they came to say goodbye. Zhen Zhen watched me intently.
"Why the stare?" I smiled.
"Promise you'll catch them. I'll only come back when you do."
"Promise. And you study hard. I'll check your homework often."
I gave her a new notebook. "It's not much, but keep it to remember."
She hugged it and bowed deeply.
They moved to Hexi. Zhen Zhen started a new school. Her parents found new work. She stayed in touch but never asked about the case, and I never mentioned it. Though shelved, I stayed ready.
The psychologist was right. The new life helped. Zhen Zhen's nightmares faded, her sleep improved. Zhen Yuling worked his new job while Hong Xia ran a store, selling produce and serving breakfast. Her egg pancakes drew crowds. They shared store duties and school runs without complaint.
No one at school knew Zhen Zhen's story. She sat in the back row, quiet and watchful. Their homeroom teacher had a gift for connecting with his students, often using humor to make his points. One day, he held up four homework notebooks – one from each row – and passed them around the class.
"You're in high school now," he said, shaking his head with theatrical disappointment. "Yet some of you write like you're still learning to hold a pencil. Chinese characters are meant to be beautiful, but look what you've done to them. Half of these look like spiders had a dance party on the page, the other half like a donkey wrote them while rolling downhill."
The class erupted in laughter.
"But these four students," he continued, holding up the notebooks, "they understand. Their writing is clear, precise – something to aspire to. And Zhen Zhen, our new student? Not a single character out of place in her entire assignment. Think about that. You all had the same 45 minutes, the same assignment. How did she achieve such perfection in both content and form?"
Zhen Zhen felt warmth rush to her cheeks. She was growing bolder each day, even insisting her parents stop picking her up after school. Zhen Yuling and his wife nodded and smiled, while secretly watching their daughter's every move.
Working Cases 1103 and the Luan City kidnapping, I filled two notebooks to bursting. When depression hit, I'd leaf through their pages.
"Writing love letters?" Cheng Guo teased.
I exhaled heavily. "Everything's here. From the Bishui Garden dismemberment in '02 to the Luan City kidnapping in '04. Every thought, every breakthrough, every failure."
"Does it help?"
"Not really."
"Don't say that," Cheng Guo said. "When you retire, you'll have material for a book."
"You know how I write."
"Oh, I do. Your love letters read like court documents."
When the case went cold, I grabbed scissors, ready to destroy both notebooks. After shredding twelve pages, regret hit. I tried piecing them back together while Cheng Guo called me childish. I had no defense. The furrow between my brows had become permanent – a mark of my obsession that Cheng Guo couldn't miss.
We had an unspoken agreement, built over years of marriage. She knew when to push and when to stay silent. That weekend, she and our son dragged me skiing. My heart wasn't in it, and soon our boy was showing me up, zipping past with a grin. I knew if I didn't focus, I'd lose all parental authority on these slopes. Drawing a deep breath, I centered myself, gripped the poles, and shot down the mountain, leaving him in a spray of snow.
Even after all that exercise, sleep wouldn't come. Beside me, Cheng Guo's breathing was soft and steady. I lay there, staring at the ceiling stains until they warped into Deng Ligang's face. I jolted upright, blinked hard, but they were just stains again. Restless, I dressed and went running. Snow City never truly sleeps. Others were out too – jogging, practicing martial arts by the river. A middle-aged man had rigged a tennis ball to his racket with string, hitting it out and drawing it back. Something about his solitary practice made me feel less alone.
Snow City's dawn comes early. The market was stirring to life, and as my muscles loosened, I wandered the stalls. Vendors were setting up – produce, meat, seafood, clothes, everyday items of all sorts.
I bought the first batch of fresh youtiao, plus soy milk and baozi. Back home, my family still slept. In the kitchen, I made century egg and lean pork porridge, butter-fried bread, sausages, eggs, and my son's sandwich.
At breakfast, I asked Peng Cheng, "How's the sandwich?"
"Next time," he said, "add bacon."
Our son was already planning his next sandwich.
"Up at three again?" Cheng Guo asked between bites of youtiao and sips of soy milk.
I nodded.
"The liver meridian is active between one and three - the Chou hour," she said. "In Traditional Chinese Medicine, waking up then means your liver fire's too high. Your qi needs balancing."
"I'm not taking any medicine," I said firmly.
"So what's your plan?"
"I want to repaint the room."
Cheng Guo froze, youtiao halfway to her mouth. "Come again?"
"You heard me."
"We bought this place second-hand when we got married. Said we'd fix it up. But you've been drowning in cases, never had time. I gave up hoping. Why now?"
I met her eyes. "Will you let me do it or not?"
She put down her chopsticks and raised both hands in surrender. "If the sun's rising in the west, who am I to block its light?"
That day, she packed up and took our son to her parents'.
I bought paint and supplies, stood in our bedroom with hands on hips, planning my attack. Finally mixed the latex paint and started with the ceiling. That night, lying in bed, I stared at the half-finished job. The unpainted stain twisted into Deng Ligang's face. I turned away, only to see him on the opposite wall.
Like roaches multiplying, one face became four - all four criminals following my eyes across the wall. My pulse hammered in the quiet. Their mocking faces drove me mad. I grabbed a sledgehammer and went after them, swinging wild. When I came to my senses, sweating cold, I faced several gaping holes in my wall. I called Yang Bo for help. Soon the whole Criminal Investigation crew showed up, youtiao and soy milk in hand, clustered around the rubble, voices rising like steam from hot porridge.
"Who designed this place?" Ge Shoujia asked. "It makes no sense."
"It's from the '90s," I said. "Bound to be awkward."
"Might as well tear down these damaged walls," Yang Bo suggested. "Fix the whole layout while we're at it."
"With what money?" I protested.
"What about your ride-or-die friends?" Yang Bo pressed.
"Can't use that for this."
Lin Hui scratched his head. "My uncle owns a brick factory. I can get them cheap."
"Captain Peng's covered our tabs plenty of times," Gu Jing added. "We can do this right, keep it cheap."
Days later, Cheng Guo brought our son home to inspect. When she opened the door, she stopped dead.
The house had transformed. We'd knocked through between the balcony and living room, flooding the space with light. The corridor was gone, making room for a bigger bathroom.
"How much?" she managed.
"The guys called in some favors," I said casually. "Didn't cost much."
Peng Cheng raced to his room, thrilled with his new desk-and-bed combo.
Cheng Guo wrapped her arms around my neck, face glowing.
"We finally have a new home," she whispered. "Did you do this for me?"
Her arms squeezed my neck until I could barely breathe.
"No," I wheezed, "that bastard Deng Ligang made me do it."
She pinched my arm hard. "Would it kill you to say something romantic?"
While I was fighting my inner demons, Deng Ligang's crew had settled into Suiluo City up Northwest. Just as I'd figured - loose security, mixed population. The four split up to avoid attention. Deng Ligang shared with Song Hongyu, while Ji Dashun and Shi Bi got their own places. Ji Dashun's spot was tucked deep in an alley, with a grocery store out front.
Xiao Liying, the store owner, was an attractive woman in her thirties. Ji Dashun became a regular, and they got friendly. Her husband, Wu Jiandong, had come to the city with her to make money, leaving their kids with grandparents back in the mountains. Wu Jiandong was quiet as a stone - according to Xiao Liying, you could hit him three times and not get a word out.
Life with him suffocated her. Ji Dashun was different - he could buy five packs of noodles and keep her laughing for half an hour. When he didn't show for a few days, she felt empty inside. He wasn't much to look at, but he knew how to work his charm on women.
A few smooth moves and she was his. Xiao Liying hadn't seen much of life, and Ji Dashun showed her pleasure she'd never known, in bed and out. Wu Jiandong couldn't stomach the shame. After a huge fight, Xiao Liying gave him two options: divorce, or go home to farm and watch the kids, never to return. He chose the second.
Ji Dashun's lack of ID and refusal to get a new one back home made Xiao Liying suspicious. She figured he might be some small-time crook. Murder charges never crossed her mind. He started using Wu Jiandong's ID, and somehow got away with it. To keep him around, Xiao Liying took him to her mountain hometown - a place so poor even birds avoided it, where paperwork wasn't exactly strict. She greased some palms and got Ji Dashun an ID under Wu Jiandong's name. After that, they lived together openly in Suiluo City.
Deng Ligang saw his chance. He paid Xiao Liying well to work her connections and sort out everyone's identity issues. She delivered. Using Deng Ligang's money to build relationships in the countryside, she helped them settle in her province's remotest mountains. Then, exploiting a policy that granted local registration to property buyers, Deng Ligang had them all buy houses and register in Suiluo City. After some careful maneuvering, the four killers became legitimate citizens.
Someone introduced Shi Bi to Feng Shuanghuan, who owned a tea shop. She was four years older, tall and solid, plain-looking. Their first meeting was all business.
"Divorced?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Kids?"
"No."
"My husband died three years ago. I have a seven-year-old son."
"I know."
"That okay?"
"It's fine."
"Then move in."
"Alright."
Shi Bi worked hard and kept quiet. Every day, he took her son to school and back, like the kid was his own.
The nosy sister-in-law from the dumpling shop next door watched him walk away with the boy.
"Last name Sun?" she pried.
"Mm," Feng Shuanghuan said.
"Full name?"
"Sun Xuequan."
"Doesn't look rough."
"He's good with details."
"Where's he from?"
"Not around here."
"You know what they say - proud wife, humble husband. Look how he keeps his head down. That type's hard to read."
"Just jealous of my man?" Feng Shuanghuan teased.
"Bah!" The chubby sister-in-law spat.
Feng Shuanghuan linked arms with her friend. "Honestly? Never thought he'd go for me. He could do better. What do you think he sees in me?"
"That's what I'm saying - why you?"
"Beats me. If he likes them plump, should've picked you!"
The chubby sister-in-law grabbed for her mouth, both of them cracking up.
"Seriously though, what do you like about him?"
"Looks good, sweet temper, nice voice."
The chubby sister-in-law grinned and whispered something.
Feng Shuanghuan smacked her back. "Trust you to think dirty."
"Getting married?"
Feng Shuanghuan played it cool. "We'll see when things settle down."
Deng Ligang ran Yongshun Billiards on the second floor, with Yongshun Massage in the basement. Both his places. The billiards crowd ran young, half of them small-timers who followed him. Song Hongyu would drift in when bored, work the register.
Living together wasn't working. Song Hongyu wasn't built for routine - the endless sameness of each day made her skin crawl. Deng Ligang was sick of domestic life too, the daily grind with one woman. They'd explode over nothing. His fists were heavy, but she knew how to hurt him where it counted. He asked what she wanted.
"This nothing life is like being dead!" she snapped. "I'm done. I want to go home!"
"We fixed your identity, bought you a house, got you registered here. What else?"
"Can't fly, can't stay in hotels, can't call home. Even prison inmates get family visits!"
The word "prison" set him off. He kicked her.
"Your mouth a trash can? Say anything you want?" His eyes bulged.
She hurled a stool at him. They went at it like they meant to kill each other. She was small, no match for him. He grabbed her collar, ready to slam her down. She howled like a wolf, crying. He'd never seen her break like this - she was usually iron-hard. His grip loosened, and she collapsed.
"You bastard, I'm pregnant!" she sobbed.
His heart stopped. Something new stirred in him. He dropped beside her, staring.
"Really?"
"Five months. Too late now."
"Who said anything about too late? It came to us - let's keep it."
She gaped at him.
His voice went soft, strange even to himself. "We've survived everything else. What's raising a kid? Let's get married tomorrow, do this right."
She scooted closer, shoulder to shoulder. He put an arm around her. She grabbed him tight.
Their clean identities gave Deng Ligang peace. His son gave him more. He decided on one last move: bring his mother and brother from Snow City, tie up loose ends. He sent Song Hongyu and the baby by plane, took the train himself. If she'd been caught at security, he could've bolted. She landed safe. Their new lives were complete.
Deng Ligang managed to move his family from Snow City on that trip. Zhang Fengci and Deng Liqun got registered first in some backwoods area of S Province, then transferred to Suiluo City. Song Hongyu's people did the same. His final safety net was in place. He figured they could breathe easy in Suiluo now.
When Deng Ligang's mother and newly-freed brother vanished from Snow City, along with Song Hongyu's family from Huayuan City, it hit me hard. We searched their homes but came up empty. This was new. After the initial rage passed, I settled down to think. Every cloud has a silver lining. By taking their whole families, they'd made themselves a bigger target. Even an idiot could figure they'd gone somewhere with loose security. They had money, so fake papers wouldn't be hard. They'd likely stick together - at least two of them would.
Deng Ligang hosted everyone for dinner each Spring Festival, putting on a show of family warmth. But Shi Bi and Ji Dashun sat on pins and needles at these gatherings. They knew what he was capable of and didn't trust him - worried he might poison them. They'd only eat what Deng Ligang and Song Hongyu had already tasted, only drink after their family had taken the first sip.
The Wenchuan earthquake hit May 12, 2008. I led relief work in Sichuan, earned a second-class merit. That August, I handled Olympic security, got a commendation.
By 2010, I'd made Deputy Director of Snow City Public Security. Zhen Zhen finished high school, went to Police University. After graduating, she came back to Snow City, passed the exam, and joined Criminal Investigation. She started calling me "Master," following me everywhere. Since she'd picked me as her teacher, I had to be tough on her.
One day off, I taught her surveillance. Baseball cap, jeans, head down. She wore a hoodie pulled low, trailing behind. I got on a bus, she squeezed on too. I jumped off suddenly - she missed her chance, watched the bus pull away. After some running around, she spotted me in an alley. I turned off, lost her again. While she was searching, out of breath, I grabbed her collar from behind.
I broke down her score: "Face gave you away - minus 10. Blew your cover - minus 10. Lost your target - minus 10. Got caught - minus 20. You failed."
I had her train with the men, full intensity. She was angry at first, but I didn't budge. She adapted. I'd watch when I could, demonstrate moves. Once I kicked a guy's ankle, swept up, dropped him. Zhen Zhen copied it, got the upper hand her first time.
"Lock it down, press his head. Breathe. Trap the arm - perfect!" I called from the side. She had him in a neck hold, straddling him. He flipped her under.
"Don't give - make him give!" I shouted.
She twisted free, leaped up, threw him down hard.
I patted her shoulder. "No problem's impossible. Give it everything, turn weakness to strength."
She got comfortable with the unit. They stopped treating her different, invited her drinking, playing soccer. If she didn't play, she'd cheer from the sidelines. Her family wasn't local, so holidays, Cheng Guo had me bring her home.
Our son Peng Cheng was 14, in his "whatever" phase. First time Zhen Zhen came over, he hid in his room, barely showed for meals. Asked about his grades, he just looked annoyed. Zhen Zhen had studied psychology - knew he was testing boundaries. She spoke his language, got him talking.
He asked if she gamed. "Try me," she said. They left dinner to play. Cheng Guo started to object, but I stopped her.
Zhen Zhen crushed him three-zero. He started following her like a puppy, calling her "sister." They'd hide in his room, she'd make him do homework, explain things his way. His grades improved. Every Sunday he'd wait for her. Whether I was home or not, she'd come like family - shopping, cooking, helping Cheng Guo handle him.
Cheng Guo asked her once, "With your test scores, why police work? Criminal investigation - is that for girls?"
"After what happened to me, I got issues," Zhen Zhen said. "Only felt safe around cops. Figured I might as well become one."
In 2011, I went to Beijing for a meeting, visited my brother-in-law in the hospital. Heart problems. My younger brother-in-law was there too, chattering away. My mind was on the meeting, half-listening.
I asked my older brother-in-law, "How'd your heart go bad so suddenly?"
He replied, "This disease strikes anyone, regardless of age. We just discharged a patient who wasn't even forty."
"That reminds me," my brother-in-law said, leaning forward. "When that man was recovering from surgery, I wanted to ask him about any risks. I noticed the medical chart at his bedside - it said 'Sun' or something like that. His face seemed familiar, and after wracking my brain, I realized he went to my middle school, different class though. Everyone knew him as a troublemaker. But here's the thing - I could've sworn his surname was Deng, not Sun."
The name Deng sent a jolt through me. I quickly pulled out my phone and showed him a photo of Deng Ligang.
He shook his head. "No, not him. This guy had a round head, skinny neck, and slouched. From behind, he looked just like a turtle."
I found another photo - this time of Deng Liqun - and showed it to him.
"That's him!" he exclaimed, jabbing his finger at the screen. "No doubt about it."
A chill ran down my spine, raising goosebumps. I went straight to hospital administration and, using my police authority, obtained the surgery records for that period. One name stood out: Sun Xuming. Further investigation revealed while the illness was genuine, everything else - name, hometown, birth date - was fabricated.
Deng Liqun's appearance triggered my investigative instincts. Back in Snow City, I methodically revisited every connection in Deng Ligang's social circle.
A distant Deng family relative revealed that Deng Liqun had returned to Snow City alone for medical treatment two years ago. The relative had discovered by chance that Deng Liqun was using the name "Sun Xuming" on his medical records.
At Snow City Hospital, I located records for a "Sun Xuming," but the address was false - a dead end. Digging deeper into Deng Ligang's connections led me to his cousin, Huang Laoqi.
Huang Laoqi, Zhang Fengci's nephew, was fifty-four and had a checkered past. His gang involvement had landed him in prison, and a gambling addiction had cost him his family - his wife left, his children wanted nothing to do with him. Now he lived hand-to-mouth running a small mahjong parlor, never staying in one place long, constantly changing phone numbers. When word reached him that I was looking, he called: "Second Brother, heard you've been asking around for me. What's up?"
"Let's have a drink," I said. "That new dumpling place in Xinkai Alley. We need to talk."
I arrived first, ordered some cold dishes, dumplings, and beer. When Huang Laoqi walked in, the years had clearly taken their toll. His skin sagged, his hair had grayed, and he leaned heavily on a cane.
"What happened to your leg?" I asked.
"Old injury from a fight catching up with me. Femoral head necrosis," he replied.
"They can replace that. Titanium steel - solid stuff."
"Checked the price. Over 30,000 yuan. More than I'm worth."
I studied him, poured his beer. He clinked glasses with me and drained his in one go. I topped him up.
Wiping his mouth, he sighed. "When you've got money, everything works fine. When you're broke, it all falls apart."
"The mahjong parlor doing okay?" I asked.
"Keeps me fed, barely. Second Brother, you've gone to all this trouble. Coming to help me out?"
I smiled. "Aren't you too old to call me brother?"
"Everyone in Xinqiao District calls you Second Brother, young and old. I'm just following suit."
"They're copying my younger brother," I said.
Huang Laoqi shook his head. "Second Brother isn't just a name. You need real strength to carry those words. It means something - stands for righteousness."
"Why'd you get divorced, Huang Laoqi? I heard your wife was quite the beauty back in the day in Xinqiao," I said.
He snorted. "Beauty? Don't make me laugh. Women are all opportunists. They're sweet when you've got money, but break your leg and they'll kick you while you're down."
The alcohol loosened his tongue as he drank glass after glass, clearly savoring what had become a rare pleasure. As the drink took hold, his inhibitions fell away.
Leaning in close, he lowered his voice. "A man's worth is in his rap sheet. Back in my day, I was raw power. They called me the yellow beast. Had a double-barrel shotgun, even grenades. Could snatch anyone I wanted. Now? No muscle, no money. Law and order keeps you in line these days. Used to have an entourage, feast like kings. Now I don't even have a roof over my head."
"What else would you like to eat?" I asked.
"Bring a plate of sausages and slice up some marinated beef," I said, signaling to the waiter for a small bowl of ice cubes. While Huang Laoqi drank, I crunched on the ice, watching him out of the corner of my eye.
Once he'd had enough to drink, he leaned back in his chair and slurred, “So, what do you want? Just ask. I’ll tell you whatever I know.”
“Is there anything you haven’t told me?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.
His face tightened as irritation bubbled to the surface. “Director Peng, can we just talk like normal people? I’ve told you everything already! If I had anything else, I’d hand it over. You know I’d let you use it to get ahead.”
I smiled faintly, studying him. “You showed up as soon as I called. You’ve been very cooperative. But tell me, would you be just as eager to help if police from other provinces were the ones looking for you?”
His expression darkened. “I wouldn’t cooperate with them.”
I leaned forward slightly. “When Deng Ligang injured someone, you were the one who got him a fake ID, right? Using Li Jianfeng’s name and ID number? You had his photo taken and delivered the fake to him in Tianjin.”
Huang Laoqi frowned. “I’ve confessed to all that before, served my time, paid my dues. Why are you dragging up old stories?”
“Because Deng Ligang and the others—including Shi Bi—used that ID while committing a string of murders in another province. They’ve moved on from Li Jianfeng’s identity now.”
He shrugged. “No need to ask me. They must’ve gotten new fake IDs.”
I tilted my head. “Your cousin, Deng Liqun, was sentenced to seven years for robbery. After he got out, the whole family packed up and left town. Did you know that?”
“I had no idea when my aunt and her family moved.”
“What do you know, then?”
He shot me a sideways glance. “Not as much as you, clearly.”
I didn’t let his deflection slide. My voice turned sharp. “Did you know that Deng Liqun came back to Snow City for medical treatment?”
That hit a nerve. His face twitched.
“Well?” I pressed. “Did you know or not?”
“When I found out, he’d already left,” he admitted, looking uncomfortable.
I kept my eyes fixed on him, saying nothing. The silence stretched until it became unbearable. He shifted in his seat, breaking eye contact.
Finally, I spoke. “Huang Laoqi, are you playing dumb with me?”
Instead of answering, he grabbed a piece of braised beef with his chopsticks, stuffing it into his mouth and chewing with exaggerated enjoyment. He swallowed, put the chopsticks down, and said, “Second Brother, if you want to get to the bottom of this, we’re going to need to work together. Let’s put on a little show.”
His plan had potential, so I agreed. That evening, in front of the mahjong parlor crowd, I made a dramatic show of arresting him. His family members were quick to request visitation, but when they arrived, they found him transformed. Using grease paint, he’d made his face look bruised and swollen with a bluish tint. For extra effect, he had me handcuff him to an iron chair.
When his relatives saw him like that, they gasped in horror. Their distress was palpable.
I kept my face hard as stone. “Huang Laoqi is suspected of harboring Deng Ligang and withholding crucial information. He’s being sent to the detention center soon. Whether or not he’ll be released is still up in the air.”
Excusing myself, I stepped away, pretending to take a phone call. That was Huang Laoqi’s cue. He slumped in his chair and sighed heavily, his voice low and bitter. “Let’s cut the nonsense, alright? Just spill what you know. Don’t drag this out. Look at me—look at the state I’m in. Meanwhile, Ligang and the others are out there living it up. You think this is worth suffering for them?”
The guilt began to work. His relatives exchanged uneasy glances. One by one, they started talking.
I turned to one of the cousins. “Your aunt, Zhang Fengci, used to have a job. After she left, who collected her salary?”
The cousin hesitated, then admitted, “I did. I’ve been collecting it every month.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And why, exactly, were you collecting her salary?”
She said, “They owed me money.”
I didn’t let her off the hook. “What money? How much did they owe?”
The cousin hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. She couldn’t come up with a clear answer.
“Withholding information is a crime too,” I said firmly.
Her head dropped, and for a moment, I thought she’d stay quiet. Then, slowly, she looked up. “Deng Liqun had heart surgery. He owed me over 30,000 yuan.”
I kept my tone even, but my words were sharp. “Let me help you with the math. From the day you started collecting the salary until now, you’ve taken 40,000 yuan. He owed you 30,000. So, why did you take the extra 10,000? Whether the police catch them or not, this makes you a prime suspect. You’ve been collecting this money illegally.”
Her face went pale, her composure crumbling under the weight of my words. “When he was hospitalized in Beijing, he had no money,” she stammered. “I sent him 30,000 yuan. After that, I started collecting his mother’s pension to make up for it.”
“What hospital in Beijing?” I asked, my tone pressing her further.
“Anzhen Hospital,” she answered.
“And what name was he admitted under?”
She faltered, trying to recall, but before she could answer, her husband, who’d been standing nearby, spoke up. “Sun Xueming,” he said. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added something that stopped me in my tracks. “Deng Ligang was furious with him. He almost kicked his brother off the hospital bed.”
The cousin snapped her head toward her husband, glaring at him for his loose tongue, but the damage was done.
I turned to him. “You spoke with Deng Ligang?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I asked him where he’d been all these years. He said, ‘When you get home, I’ll be home too.’”
That piece of information hit me like a jigsaw puzzle piece falling into place. Turning back to the cousin, I asked, “Did you hear anything about their mother?”
The cousin’s husband didn’t hesitate. “A few years ago, Deng Ligang and Song Hongyu came back. They stayed at the Hongbin Hotel. That’s when he took their mother and Deng Liqun away.”
Acting quickly, I sent a team to investigate the Hongbin Hotel. But it was too late—the hotel had been shut down for years. The building still stood, but the registration records were long gone.
After his release, the situation with Huang Laoqi got heated. His relatives confronted him, accusing him of tipping off the police. “You must’ve gotten at least 200,000 yuan for leaking information about Deng Liqun’s hospitalization,” they said.
Huang Laoqi’s temper flared. “If I had 200,000 yuan, do you think I’d be living like this?” He jabbed a finger toward his own chest. “I may have a limp, but if anyone dares to spit in my face, I’ll gut them like a fish!”
The sheer venom in his voice was enough to make the Deng family back off. They didn’t say another word.
Armed with everything we’d pieced together, I called an emergency meeting with the criminal investigation team. I laid it all out for them.
“Here’s what we know,” I began. “Deng Liqun changed his surname. He’s whitewashed his identity. This isn’t a group that can hide in first or second-tier cities. They’d stand out too much in places like that. But in smaller, third- or fourth-tier cities, they’d have no trouble blending in.
“And another thing: it’s unlikely they’ve gone south. The differences in living environment, diet, and language would make it hard for them to settle there. They’re probably still in the north.”
Using a compass, I drew a radius north of the Yellow River with Beijing at the center. “This is the area where they’re likely hiding,” I said, pointing to the map. “It includes Heilongjiang, Jilin, Liaoning, parts of Inner Mongolia, and some cities in Hebei province.”
At the Snow City Public Security Bureau, we launched a massive network search. Investigators buried themselves in the public security database, combing through records for facial matches. We started with the surname Sun, then narrowed it down to names ending with ‘ming,’ then ‘Sun Xue,’ and finally by percentage match. We searched within a five-year radius of his birth year, gradually expanding it by another five years. Two weeks passed with no results.
The sleepless nights returned. I sat under the lamp, staring at the printed photos of the suspects, frustration gnawing at me. Then, out of nowhere, a thought struck me. I jumped out of bed and went back online. I adjusted the age range downward by another two years. On the second-to-last page, a name stood out: Sun Xueming.
This was the breakthrough we had been waiting for.
At four in the morning, I contacted the duty officer at the Provincial Public Security Department through the Snow City command center. From there, we reached the N Province Public Security Department to request the password for accessing detailed household registration records for the province.
By the time we got the authorization, it was still before dawn. We accessed N Province’s household registration system and confirmed that Sun Xueming’s place of birth was listed as S Province. Excitement rose as we checked further. His mother’s name, Zhang Fengci, hadn’t been changed. Digging deeper, we uncovered more: Shi Bi had become Sun Xuequan, also born in S Province. Then we found Sun Xuefei, who was also listed as born in S Province—this was Deng Ligang. His wife was Fan Ying, from Xi County in H Province. This was Song Hongyu.
They were all on the same household registration. Their birth dates, places of origin, even their physical descriptions—heights and builds—had been altered. Without a thorough investigation, we might have missed them entirely. But one look at the photos confirmed it: they were the fugitives we had been chasing for years.
They had planned meticulously, moving from S Province to Suilu City in N Province, while Fan Ying had relocated from H Province. Their whitewashed identities might have fooled others, but not us.
With this information in hand, I assembled a team of seven for the operation: six men and one woman. Zhen Zhen, one of our officers, insisted on joining. Since we would likely need a female officer to handle Song Hongyu, I agreed.
Through our superiors, we coordinated with the Security Bureau. Their technical investigator, Qiao Zhi, happened to be Zhen Zhen’s classmate from the Police University. When we pulled into the Security Bureau’s courtyard, he was already outside, waving enthusiastically. Zhen Zhen jumped out of the car, and they exchanged a quick handshake.
The Security Bureau’s director, a man in his fifties with sharp eyes and a freshly shaven face, greeted us formally. “The Ministry of Public Security has clear guidelines: when out-of-town police come to make arrests, they should work with the local police. Why come to us instead?” he asked.
“This case is sensitive,” I replied. “We’re unfamiliar with the situation in Suilu, and the suspects have deep ties here. I’m concerned about leaks within the local force. Your bureau’s discipline is renowned, and the slogan on your wall—‘Absolute Loyalty to the Party’—gave me peace of mind. I trust you.”
The director nodded, satisfied. “Understood. Our discipline is ironclad. Qiao Zhi will assist you with whatever you need.”
Our top priority was Deng Ligang. Despite his cunning, he’d made a mistake. Years ago, he registered his motorcycle with a phone number ending in three 8s. We assumed the number had been discarded, but surprisingly, it had been active just two weeks ago.
I instructed Qiao Zhi to monitor the number. On the surveillance feed, we confirmed that all four suspects were alive and still in contact. Given Deng Ligang’s ruthless nature, I had expected him to eliminate loose ends. Yet they were all still together.
One phone call in particular caught my attention. I heard Deng Ligang’s voice, tense and sharp. “Starting January 1, 2012, anyone applying for, renewing, or replacing an ID card will need to provide fingerprint information. Keep your IDs safe. If you lose them, don’t apply for replacements.”
This slip reinforced what we already knew: they were guilty of serious crimes. When they fled, they had been in their early thirties. A decade had passed. Now, they were in their early forties. The old black-and-white photos on file barely resembled the people they had become.
Sweat dripped down my temples as I processed the implications. My chest tightened, and I downed a bowl of ice water to calm my nerves. I refocused on the details, ensuring our operation was airtight. Disguised reconnaissance, phone tracking, voice monitoring—every step was methodical.
The suspects’ key locations were narrowed down to a pool hall and a foot massage parlor. Their movements and social circles became clearer.
Zhen Zhen’s target was Song Hongyu, now living as Fan Ying. At twenty-two, Zhen Zhen was no longer the frail figure from seven years ago. She had grown into a capable officer—tall, agile, and determined. Even face-to-face, Song Hongyu might not recognize her.
The cold in Suilu was harsh and biting, unlike the damp chill of Snow City. Zhen Zhen jogged near the high-end residential complex where Deng Ligang lived, blending in with dog walkers and grocery shoppers. On her fifteenth lap, Song Hongyu emerged, holding the hand of a small child, no older than three or four.
Zhen Zhen’s heart skipped a beat. She stumbled slightly but quickly regained her composure.
Song Hongyu looked immaculate—her long hair pinned up, a white down jacket paired with tight pants, deerskin boots, and a red cashmere scarf. Her figure was unchanged, her face still youthful.
The child tugged at her hand, asking endless questions. She answered patiently, smiling as she spoke.
Zhen Zhen’s chest tightened. During the days she had been held captive, she had never seen such a smile on Song Hongyu’s face. How could someone so cruel seem so human? How could a monster like her have the audacity to start a family? Worse, how could she call herself a mother?
0 Comments