Chapter 475

When the name "Li Shang" was reported by the technician, the Special Commissioner's face abruptly darkened like iron, his knuckles rapping out a dull sound on the tabletop.

Feng Ju, on the other hand, let out a long breath in his heart, knowing he had luckily scraped through.

Workplace survival tip #1: a leader's anger never disappears, but it can be transferred.

Next came the case reconstruction discussion, and digging out more clues about Zheng Hang from it.

While Feng Ju focused his mind in thought, numerous doubts involuntarily surfaced in his Nao Hai, tangling together like a chaotic mess:

"No. 47 Middle School, isn't that Feng Mu's high school? Mask·Zheng Hang, and Feng Mu are actually alumni?"

"March 18th, that seems to be exactly when Feng Mu dropped out. Such a coincidence?"

Feng Ju repeatedly asked himself in his heart, but felt it seemed a bit far-fetched, couldn't help shaking his head, and silently comforted himself:

"Perhaps I'm just overthinking."

"But Zheng Hang's subsequent multiple crimes were at No. 8 Middle School, and at daughter Feng Yuhuai's school. Is this also a coincidence?"

Before, he didn't feel this kind of coincidence was problematic; now, it left Feng Ju no choice but to think more.

The more Feng Ju thought, the more he felt something was off; an inexplicable unease quietly sprouted in his heart:

"【Mask】's activity trajectory either overlaps with son Feng Mu or overlaps with daughter Feng Yuhuai. This is too inauspicious."

"People who don't know would think 【Mask】 is deliberately circling around my home!"

Feng Ju pressed this panic dead against the bottom of his tongue, not daring to utter a single word at the meeting.

In his Nao Hai, a horrifying and absurd thought, like a poisonous vine breaking through the soil, twisted and clung to nerve endings growing wildly, yet always fell just that little bit short, unable to fully grow into a complete shape.

Inexplicable panic engulfed him tightly like a tide, making him unable to sit or stand still.

At this moment, he only wanted to immediately rush home, grab his son or daughter, and ask if they previously knew a man named Zheng Hang.

When the meeting ended.

The Special Commissioner specially kept Feng Ju behind, and reiterated to him once more the final deadline and the promise of his daughter "ascending" to Upper City.

Feng Ju showed a difficult expression, but meeting the Special Commissioner's cold and ruthless eyes, where was the courage to bargain? He could only agree in one mouthful, yet also buried the pot in advance.

Feng Ju coldly laughed and said:

"Special Commissioner, as it looks now, 【Mask】 fundamentally isn't No. 8 Middle School faculty or students. That list Li Shang gave is off by ten thousand eight thousand miles, seriously misleading us."

Feng Ju glanced left and right, lowered his voice and said:

"If not for trusting Captain Li's character, I'd almost have to suspect Captain Li is deliberately covering for 【Mask】."

Unknown if the Special Commissioner listened, his five fingers pressed heavily on Feng Ju's pitch-black shoulder, expression not moving a thread, yet his tone seemed wrapped in ice slag:

"Remember, seven days. I don't need you to catch him. You find out where he's hiding for me. Don't you dare disappoint me."

Feng Ju sat worried and anxious in the driver's seat, the steering wheel slick with cold sweat from his palm.

In the rearview mirror, the Patrol Bureau building's outline seemed to cast a ferocious, twisted silhouette on the ground.

He stomped the accelerator hard; the dashboard's blue light reflected his thin lips pressed into a knife-sharp line.

Just as his car shadow vanished around the street corner in an instant, a taxi slowly stopped at the Patrol Bureau gate.

The car door "creaked" as it was pushed open; a ragged arm reached out, purple-blue blood vessels writhing hideously under the skin.

That person staggered out of the car door; every step seemed like stepping on cotton, tottering.

His figure was stretched long by the street lamp, like a ghost shadow being dragged, slowly disappearing into the Patrol Bureau's main gate.

………

In the restaurant, warm yellow light like melted amber slowly flowed over the beige tablecloth, plating every crease with a layer of soft glaze.

The tablecloth was clean as new, yet slightly yellowed from age, like old letter paper soaked in time, silently recording countless similar nights.

Wang Xiuli wore that floral apron used for many years; the floral pattern on the apron had long faded somewhat.

She shuttled between kitchen and restaurant, placing one carefully cooked synthetic vegetable dish after another on the table.

When she finally untied the apron, the broken hair at her forehead still clung with fine sweat beads, flashing crystal light under the lamp.

She raised a hand to lightly wipe the sweat, then slowly sat down at the table, a satisfied smile appearing on her face.

The food in the center of the table steamed; white mist curled upward, weaving a layer of hazy gauze between the three people.

The wall clock's hands passed 10 o'clock unhurriedly; the mechanical "click" sound rhythmically swung back and forth.

This sound made everything seem like before, as if once a whole family sat neatly at the table, waiting for the father and husband to return home.

When Feng Ju pushed the door in, what he saw was precisely such a familiar yet strange scene.

Feng Ju slowly walked to the table, sat in the host seat.

He reached out to pick up chopsticks, picked up a piece of dish and put it in his mouth; with this first chopstick of his falling.

Following his first chopstick falling, the others only then successively moved their chopsticks; everything as before, as if rehearsed hundreds of times.

Wang Xiuli never had a big appetite; when eating she was always quiet and still.

She sat to the side, eyes gently watching her family; her chopsticks didn't stop, habitually picking vegetables into everyone's bowls.

Feng Yuhuai lowered her head stirring the soup in her bowl; her small sips looked like a delicate porcelain doll, but her lowered eyelashes cast a shadow on her face, making her emotions unreadable.

Feng Mu only lowered his head shoveling rice, not speaking either; accepting everything Mother picked for him without refusal, seriously chewing mouthful by mouthful, swallowing into his stomach.

Conversation at the dinner table was intermittent; mostly Feng Ju asking, Feng Yuhuai answering in a soft voice, while Feng Mu remained silent throughout, as if merely a bystander to this father-daughter dialogue.

Everything was the same as usual.

But the unease in Feng Ju's heart spread like a tide.

His hand holding chopsticks tightened slightly; he always felt something was off, yet couldn't put his finger on it.

Finally, he put down his chopsticks; his gaze swept over the camera on the Chazhuo, his voice suddenly sinking:

"Camera... did you turn it on and watch?"

Feng Yuhuai's chopsticks paused in mid-air for an instant.

Her eyelashes lightly trembled twice; when she raised her eyes again, her face had already resumed that obedient and gentle expression.

"Dad, why did you pick up a piece of junk and bring it back?"

She tilted her head, shallow dimples floating up at the corners of her lips, her tone innocent and guileless,

"Brother and I watched it together, nothing plays from inside at all."

Feng Mu likewise set down his chopsticks, unhurriedly picked up a tissue and wiped his mouth corner, then stood up and walked toward the tea table.

He took out the storage card from inside the camcorder, the gaze behind the lens calm and gentle, and extended his hand toward Feng Ju:

"The storage card is a bit damaged, the Second Prison has technicians who can repair it."

His voice was very light, yet every word brimmed with filial devotion:

"If needed, I can take it back, repair it, and bring it back again."

This was Feng Mu's final effort for this home, a filial son's kind plea attempting to salvage his father's fate, a hidden redemption.

Alas......

Feng Ju accepted the storage card, almost without hesitation refusing:

"No need, a mere storage card, the Patrol Bureau can also repair it."

Feng Yuhuai raised her head, gently brushed aside her bangs, her gaze faintly following that tiny black card.

The corner of her mouth curled up, revealing a supremely sweet smile toward her father.

And in the reflection of Feng Mu's lenses——

Imoto's whole body was erupting with dangerous blood-colored light, that red light so piercing it nearly scorched his retina......

(End of Chapter)