Chapter 15

Chapter 15 Chapter 15 Peaceful Road.

Today there were no clouds, and the sky over Beijiang City was clear for ten thousand miles.

Song Xiaotong greeted the security guard full of energy, waving her hand, carrying two bags of breakfast upstairs.

After several real-case investigations, the timid scholarly aura on her had mostly faded. Only her ability to write reports remained untouched—in fact, it had become even more refined.

She pushed the door open. The blinds were drawn, and at the innermost seat lay a black shadow. Song Xiaotong slowed her steps quietly, but the other person suddenly sprang up on their own.

“Pancakes! Who brought pancakes!” Wang Lai’s nostrils flared twice. He hadn’t even opened his eyes, yet precisely turned his neck toward the left.

The first time she saw this, Song Xiaotong had nearly screamed. Now she could calmly feed him and casually hand over a cup of soy milk: “Where’s Brother He?”

Wang Lai stretched a long yawn: “Probably washing up. He was just here.”

Shua—

The blinds were pulled open and the window was pushed open. Fresh air surged in, sweeping away the stuffiness that had accumulated overnight. Looking at Wang Lai’s drained, lifeless appearance, Song Xiaotong couldn’t help asking: “What exactly happened last night?”

Wasn’t it said that only the suspect was injured, and that he confessed pretty quickly?

“This guy,” Wang Lai said through a mouthful of pancake, chewing vaguely, “on the surface he’s timid and obedient, but in reality he’s extremely bold.”

“In his memo he wrote out a complete murder plan. If things had gone a bit differently, that urban legend of ours would’ve been ended—bloody and mangled, lying in a bamboo forest, waiting for tomorrow’s headline news.”

Song Xiaotong frowned: “Does Jian Qing know him?”

“Not at all!” Wang Lai ground his teeth fiercely, as if he were chewing the suspect’s flesh. “They had never even met before.”

Song Xiaotong: “Then why…”

“Because Jian Qing is good-looking,” Wang Lai said listlessly, collapsing into his chair. “And he’s always trending. Every time it’s a hot search, always explosive.”

“Chen Yang—I mean the suspect—wanted to make a big headline. He just happened to learn that Jian Qing would attend a banquet at Lanjiang Yayuan. After arriving, he looked around, didn’t find anyone more to his taste, slapped his forehead—bam—our Jian boss became the unlucky target.”

Song Xiaotong was dumbfounded.

“Absurd, right? I think so too,” Wang Lai said, staring blankly upward. “What’s even more absurd is what came after.”

“I asked Chen Yang: there must be a motive for murder, right? Why should a good-looking person deserve to die? He said, because he himself is ugly, he’s been discriminated against everywhere, so he wants to take revenge on society.”

“I swear to heaven, hand on a lamp. Although Chen Yang’s looks can’t really be called handsome or ugly, he’s definitely within the range of an ordinary person.”

“I suspect he was messing with me, but I have no evidence.”

Song Xiaotong sipped her soy milk thoughtfully: “Psychological issues? Recently exposed to strong trauma?”

Wang Lai sighed: “Maybe.” As for that, He Huoli was more skilled.

After finishing the pancake in a few quick bites, He Linfeng, who had been missing all morning, finally came back slowly—clean and refreshed, without the slightest trace of an all-nighter.

Wang Lai suddenly understood Chen Yang’s feelings.

Even if only a little.

He took the soy milk and thanked her. He Linfeng smiled and recruited her like labor: “Perfect timing. Xiaotong didn’t stay up late and can drive. Finished eating? Come with me to retrieve some evidence.”

Song Xiaotong quickly pressed her fingers together: “Yes, sir!”

Chen Yang’s workplace was an aesthetic medical clinic. It was located in a quiet area, luxuriously decorated, and somewhat well-known in Beijiang. Rumor had it that many celebrities had come here for injections.

“…This is Chen Yang’s office,” the woman with tied-up long hair, wearing a white coat, introduced as she raised her hand. She explained gently, “We don’t use scalpels very often, so we don’t do daily inventory. The director has already sent people to check. Please wait a moment, both of you.”

She was called Zhang Qianli, and she was Chen Yang’s colleague.

Pale blue curtains hung on both sides. Soft sunlight gently illuminated the entire room. Behind the solid wood desk was a leather-padded chair. He Linfeng skillfully put on disposable gloves and asked, “What was Chen Yang’s personality like normally?”

“Introverted, gloomy,” Zhang Qianli answered without hesitation. “At singing events or dinners, he always sat alone in a corner. Over time, we also rarely invited him anymore.”

“I heard he originally interned at a Grade-A tertiary hospital in Yanjing. He barely passed the conversion to full-time, and because he urgently needed money, he came into this field. He probably felt his talent was wasted, like a lofty melody that few could appreciate.”

Song Xiaotong’s pen flew across the page: “And recently? Has anything unusual happened recently?”

“Recently?” Zhang Qianli thought for a moment. “Does failing a promotion count? But honestly, he didn’t have much chance of becoming deputy director anyway. Chen Yang was good technically, but his communication skills were too poor. He had even been complained about by clients before.”

“The one competing with him, although slightly worse in business ability, was very sociable and also good-looking.”

“Ah, officer, you understand—appearance is too important in our line of work. When you’re working on people’s faces, if you want clients to trust you, you need to be convincing yourself.”

Unaware of the case details, Zhang Qianli spoke without restraint, revealing key points in just a few sentences.

“Wait, could it be that he… because he failed the promotion…” Zhang Qianli suddenly came to a late realization, a chill running through her. “Luckily, the director wanted to compensate him and gave him a chance to network at Lanjing Yayuan. I see now—he usually avoided such occasions whenever possible, so why was he suddenly so proactive this time?”

She had thought he was planning to compromise with reality and try once more.

He Linfeng nodded, flipping through the documents in the folder, and asked casually, “Did Chen Yang have any close friends? What about his relationship with his family?”

Song Xiaotong looked up in confusion.

Logically, after finding the trigger that drove Chen Yang to commit the crime, they should only need to verify the source of the weapon to close the case smoothly. There was no need to ask anything further.

“Friends? I really don’t know,” Zhang Qianli waved her hand. “As for family… anyway, Chen Yang was always the one who volunteered to stay on duty during holidays and festivals.”

He Linfeng pulled open the drawer.

Tissues, ballpoint pens, professional books… searching layer by layer, his fingertips suddenly paused. At the very back of the drawer, he touched a wooden photo frame turned face down.

The style was very retro, like the decor of Yuedu Mall—at least ten or so years old.

He turned it over.

Cracks spread like a spiderweb across the glass. Behind the obviously shattered surface, a family of four sat neatly together, smiling happily in a yellowed photograph.

“Chen Yang did indeed have a younger brother, Chen Chen,” Wang Lai said as he projected the newly obtained information. “He died accidentally twelve years ago, so his household registration was cancelled.”

He Linfeng: “Accidental death?”

“It was said to be an asthma attack, and he had just run out of medication,” Wang Lai said, counting off on his fingers. “He died at home. The medical history matched, and his parents personally sent him to the hospital. The local police station only made the most basic record. I only managed to dig up the paper file from the archive through connections.”

On the big screen was a delicate but not effeminate face. Because he was still young, his features had not fully matured, faintly carrying a kind of beauty that transcended gender.

“Genetics really are mysterious,” Wang Lai sighed. “Clearly both parents and the younger brother were extremely good-looking, yet Chen Yang didn’t inherit any of it at all.”

Completely divergent paths—totally the opposite direction.

“According to reliable sources, when Chen Yang was four or five, his parents even suspected he had been switched at birth and did a paternity test. Back then, over twenty years ago, it caused a huge uproar in that small county.”

“Later, the couple had Chen Chen.”

The braised pork at the cafeteria lunch was a bit greasy, so He Linfeng didn’t eat much. He was now peeling an orange to supplement vitamins: “Was Chen Yang at home the day Chen Chen died?”

Wang Lai answered instinctively: “He should have been at home. It was summer vacation at the time.”

And at the very moment the words fell, he suddenly realized: “You don’t mean to suspect…”

If it were anyone else, Wang Lai would have thought they were overthinking. But since it was He Linfeng, he couldn’t help but unconsciously follow that line of assumption and let it expand.

Twelve years ago, Chen Yang was twenty years old and studying at the best medical university in Yanjing. If Chen Chen had truly been killed by him, would Chen’s father and mother—already having lost one son—have chosen to cover it up for the former?

But soon, these thoughts were scattered by cold reality:

Twelve years had passed. Any relevant clues had long been erased by the river of time. Even if He Linfeng’s speculation was correct, it would still be extremely difficult for them to bring the murderer to justice and force a confession.

“In any case, notify the family first,” He Linfeng said slowly, chewing with one cheek slightly puffed out. “Maybe we can still find some traces.”

“Oh right—did Chen Chen know Jian Qing?”

Wang Lai gave a faint eye roll, looking at him with an expression that clearly said, “What nonsense are you talking about?”

“Just asking,” He Linfeng calmly concealed the abrupt reminder from last night. He reached his hand forward. “Orange? Want some?”

Two seconds later.

The serious crime team office echoed with Wang Lai’s anguished roar: “He Linfeng!”

“So sour!”

Ping’an Road, an old street in the southwest of Beijiang.

Because it had never been included in the development zone, the surrounding area was full of low, cramped old buildings. The peeling wall paint revealed mottled gray patches, like ugly bandages stuck all over the walls.

Just as dawn was breaking, one breakfast stall after another set up shop. The short holiday had just ended, and both workers and students would mostly come here to eat.

Skillfully setting up the stove, Wang Guiying wiped her hands and kneaded dough. Her stall was in a relatively remote spot, but her fried dough sticks were good, so she never lacked customers.

As she dipped chopsticks in water and pressed the middle of the dough, she heard her husband ask: “Hey, look—there’s something in that grass, isn’t there?”

Wang Guiying didn’t even look up. “Probably a stray cat.” When it got cold, they all got hungry and meowed miserably, hoping people would hurry up and leave so they could scavenge a few leftovers.

“How could a cat be that big?” The man narrowed his eyes to look. Suddenly he slapped his thigh. “Could it be someone drunk sleeping outside? The temperature’s dropped so much lately—don’t let them freeze to death.”

He was clearly a kind-hearted person. While speaking, he had already started walking over, his hands still working without stopping. Wang Guiying frowned and was just about to tell him to come back and stop meddling—when the next second she saw her husband recoil as if he had seen a ghost and fall hard onto the ground.

“A… a dead person!”

In the knee-high bushes lay a man’s corpse at an angle. His face was mangled, like torn cloth slashed apart by a knife. His hands were tightly clutched around his neck, where his throat had been slit open.

Further down, with the head as the center, scattered blood had been absorbed into the soil. It had dried into a dark red, like childish scribbles.

A small body trembled slightly. A black-tailed stray cat stood on his chest. Hearing the commotion, it turned back alertly—meow—and a piece of chewed flesh dropped from its mouth.