Chapter 236: THE HOODIE APPEARS

Gu Changzheng frowned at her, waiting until her sobs subsided before asking again: “Why did the oil pot suddenly tip over? Was there anyone else in the kitchen at the time? How do you know these details so clearly?”

From Yu Jiajia’s account, he sensed that Zhang Shaodong, though only seventeen at the time, must have possessed far greater practical skills than a boy his age, and frying dishes was certainly not his first time—so why did an accident happen now? Had someone tampered with something?

Moreover, when Yu Jiajia recounted the incident, it was as if she had been watching it all along—completely inconsistent with her own claim that she had been paralyzed with fear! Was there someone else present at the scene?

Indeed, after he raised the question, Yu Jiajia sniffled: “Zhou Mama was also in the kitchen then. She told me what happened. At the time, my mind went blank—I was completely terrified. If not for Zhang Shaodong, it would’ve been me who got hurt! So, so I felt terrible inside, but when I went to the hospital to see him, he refused to meet me. In my panic, I...”

Gu Changzheng studied the girl before him; his instinct told him she wasn’t lying. Perhaps, she was simply an outsider who knew nothing.

Unfortunately, the old director, Zhou Hui, had vanished—alive or dead, no one knew.

Leaving the dance troupe, at the main gate, he turned back to look at the place, remembering Ge Manli, murdered by her husband three years ago, and silently wished: May this place hold only beauty, and no more sorrow!

On the way back, he instructed Gao Ye to investigate whether the Angel Orphanage had ever purchased accident insurance for the orphans back then—if so, obtain every single record.

As he left the dance troupe, he thought of Ge Manli, and of the policy that took her life. It also reminded him: perhaps that fire wasn’t an accident. Of course, he always considered the worst possibility first—but deep down, he hoped this was a process of elimination. He didn’t want to find evidence that the orphanage had insured any of the children, just as he didn’t wish Zhou Hui had been in the kitchen that day.

Just as the rain had stopped for a day, it began again—harder and harder. Gu Changzheng sat in the car, yet felt as if a cold gaze watched him from nearby.

Years of professional habit kept his expression calm, but his eyes swiftly scanned every person passing outside the window.

Suddenly, a figure appeared about a hundred meters to the left front of their car—a man wearing a hoodie.

“Stop the car!” Gu Changzheng shouted.

Gao Ye reacted instantly—the car swerved right, then screeched to a halt at the curb. Before he could speak, Gu Changzheng had already opened the door and sprinted toward the left front.

The hoodie didn’t seem in a hurry. Only when Gu Changzheng was about fifty meters away did he slowly turn and slip into a side alley.

This was an old urban village—narrow alleys, walls of self-built homes, streetlights still the old cement poles with incandescent bulbs from last century.

Rain trickled down his soaked hair, across his cheeks. The early autumn evening carried a chill. Gu Changzheng wiped the rain from his face as Gao Ye, holding an umbrella with one hand, caught up: “Chief Gu! What’s going on?”

Gu Changzheng kept his eyes fixed ahead: “The hoodie. He’s here.”

Gao Ye instinctively reached for his waist, then remembered—they were only investigating former orphanage staff today, no firearms issued. Gu Changzheng suddenly quickened his pace: “He’s trying to escape! Hurry!”

The “hoodie” up ahead suddenly broke into a full sprint. Both men didn’t hesitate—they sprinted after him.

No matter how hard they chased, the “hoodie” seemed to have eyes in the back of his head—he always stayed exactly fifty meters ahead, as if taunting them.

Gao Ye, young and fiery, felt his competitive spirit flare. He bent low, pushed harder, his speed noticeably increased—he soon pulled five or six meters ahead of Gu Changzheng, closing in on the “hoodie.”

Ahead was a ninety-degree turn. The “hoodie” darted around it and vanished from sight.

Gao Ye’s heart raced—he sped up even more, and in moments, he too vanished around the corner, out of Gu Changzheng’s view.

Gu Changzheng gritted his teeth, forcing his pace, but age limited his stamina—he couldn’t match the youth. When he finally rounded the corner, the alley ahead was empty. Not a trace of the “hoodie”—nor of Gao Ye.

He stopped instantly, scanning the surroundings. The alley was even narrower—and worse, not a single streetlight. Night had fully fallen. He pulled out his high-intensity flashlight. In its beam, he saw a two-story house ahead, thirty meters to his right, its front door half-open.

He rushed to the door. Through the opening, darkness swallowed the interior. The flashlight revealed several messy, wet footprints on the floor.

Gao Ye must have chased the “hoodie” inside. Seeing the pitch-black interior, Gu Changzheng worried for Gao Ye’s safety and followed the wet footprints inside.

The continuous rain and the house’s extreme depth gave off a thick moldy stench. Gu Changzheng walked to the very back and saw the footprints leading up an interior staircase.

Holding the flashlight, he moved in a low, tactical stance, ascending slowly. The second floor remained silent—as if no one lived in the building. The door at the top was wide open. As he stepped forward, the flashlight beam caught a figure lying on the floor.

“No!” The memory of Luo Fei’s recent attack flashed in his mind—a dread surged. He sprinted over and saw it was Gao Ye.

He bent down to check—then heard a groan. Gao Ye, clutching the back of his head, winced: “Son of a bitch—hit hard!” Seeing he wasn’t seriously hurt, Gu Changzheng exhaled in relief. As he stood, his flashlight swept the wall behind Gao Ye—and froze on a familiar photo.

It was the same photo he’d seen at the Angel Orphanage: Zhou Hui with six girls. But this version was horrifying—three of the girls’ eyes had been gouged out.

“Gao Ye! Are you alright?” Gu Changzheng asked, while sweeping the flashlight around—and his blood turned cold.