Chapter 45

Provincial capital.

Changyang City.

Broad roads and annoying traffic noise—everywhere from East Market to West Market, from South Ridge to North Source—there was not a single quiet spot.

The sky’s blue and the clouds’ white were fine, but the gray of the ground and the white of the walls always felt grimy.

Pedestrians on the street came in all shapes and sizes, but apart from the beauties showing off their bare legs, every other man, woman, young or old, radiated a working-class exhaustion.

Shuitian Bar Street.

“If you remember anything else, call me,” Wei Zhenguo closed his notebook, stood up expressionlessly.

“Got it.” The young man across from him crossed his legs and simply said: “Don’t see me off.”

Wei Zhenguo smiled, stepped out of the dim room, took two deep breaths, and absentmindedly lit a cigarette.

Outside, the sun shone brightly, warming his skin—he couldn’t understand why these kids preferred to hang out in semi-basements playing music, especially music that sounded terrible.

“Master, this kid is way too arrogant,” said Mu Zhiyang, young and clearly unable to tolerate disrespect.

Wei Zhenguo put away his notebook, exhaled, and said: “It’s not him. Don’t stir up trouble.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to stir up trouble,” Mu Zhiyang protested. Back at school, if he’d met a student like this, he’d have confronted him head-on. Now that he wore a uniform, he was restricted: “I just think someone like this is highly likely to commit crimes—he’s already on society’s fringes. A little conflict, and he’d lose control easily.”

Wei Zhenguo glanced at him: “Just control yourself.”

“At least check him out. I think we should take him in for questioning.”

Wei Zhenguo only shook his head wearily: “No need. Taking him in means contacting the local police station. Don’t bother people unless there’s a real reason.”

They’d run around the city for two days, then come to the provincial capital Changyang to track people down—they were exhausted.

Mu Zhiyang pressed: “Why not?”

“Gut feeling.”

“Come on, Master—you told me not to rely on feelings, but on logic.”

Wei Zhenguo chuckled, tapped his notebook: “Fine, let’s use logic. Logically, this guy is a nobody—no hidden agenda, no depth. Facing us two, isn’t his composure a bit too calm?”

“I think he’s clueless.”

“Someone who plays music but never made it—back in our day, we called them drifters. Drifters see police from their hometown and show emotion. If he’d committed a serious crime, he’d either panic or resist violently. He wouldn’t be this relaxed—this is effortless. That’s what I’ve seen.” Wei Zhenguo spoke with experience, giving Mu Zhiyang a lesson.

Mu Zhiyang nodded slowly, absorbing it.

"Next one," Wei Zhenguo flipped through his notebook. This kind of screening work was the most basic—and most exhausting—police duty. He’d never liked it when he was young, and he still didn’t like it now—he just had to do it.

While calling and searching for addresses, Wei Zhenguo met two more people. Night had fallen.

“This Ding Lan’s a social butterfly… meaning someone with too many connections,” Mu Zhiyang muttered. “And these are just the ones we found. If the criminal is truly ordinary, how do we even find him for a single case like this? Assuming there even is a case.”

“There is a case,” Wei Zhenguo glanced at Mu Zhiyang. “A girl who was working normally that day, dating, calling her parents—then vanished without a trace. Three years with no word, cut off from family, friends, relatives… You say she’s a social butterfly. Would a social butterfly do that?”

Mu Zhiyang froze, then slowly shook his head: “No. If she did that, she wouldn’t be a social butterfly.”

“Exactly. And if a girl who’d never dated before was emotionally tricked and suddenly ran away, that’d be more believable. But Ding Lan had so many boyfriends—would she be easily fooled?” Wei Zhenguo shifted tone: “Besides, three years is too long. Passion doesn’t last that long.”

“So you suspect this is… a murder?” Mu Zhiyang asked quietly.

Wei Zhenguo sighed: “Murder… murder isn’t the scary part. I’m worried about…”

“What?”

“What if it’s unlawful detention?” Wei Zhenguo looked at Mu Zhiyang.

Mu Zhiyang, following his master’s line of thought, shuddered involuntarily.

The longer you’re a cop, even if you haven’t handled certain cases yourself, just reading files or knowing public details reveals countless dark sides.

And many of those dark sides are inhuman.

A beautiful girl held in unlawful detention for three years—what fate awaited her? Just thinking about it sent chills down the spine. In Mu Zhiyang’s mind, whether a beautiful girl could even survive three years of unlawful detention was questionable. And if she didn’t survive, it was hard to say whether that was luck or misfortune.

“Hurry up. Meet one more person, then go rest,” Wei Zhenguo said, studying the street sign and leading the way.

Mu Zhiyang hurried after him, saying as they walked: “Even the provincial capital has its problems—too big. Finding one person here takes time enough to check three in Ningtai.”

“At least we’re finding people here. Others are going outside the province.”

“What about people outside the province? Send someone on a business trip?” Mu Zhiyang asked.

“If all else fails, just call first.”

“Chief Huang won’t approve more funding,” Mu Zhiyang knew his master had already been granted special permission for this trip.

Wei Zhenguo took two breaths, then laughed sharply: “Kid, this is what you need to learn. The more impossible things seem, the closer you are to the truth.”

“Like this?”

Wei Zhenguo nodded: “Just tell your superiors that, and you’ll get more funding. Got it?”

Mu Zhiyang had thought he should write his master’s words down—now he wasn’t sure if he should.

Knock knock knock.

The two knocked on the door of Room 4, 12th floor.

The man who opened the door was Tan Yong, the subject of their interview—a thirty-something divorced man, sturdy but with rough skin, an ordinary-looking guy.

“We’re from Ningtai County Bureau. We have a few questions for you…” Mu Zhiyang introduced himself, followed procedure, and asked: “Can we come in?”

“Sure,” Tan Yong said readily, letting them in.

Mu Zhiyang saw no resistance and felt some disappointment. After asking a few more questions, he learned Tan Yong worked for Luqiao Group’s engineering division and had once been sent to Ding Lan’s factory for a project—meaning he might have touched her bicycle. His guard lowered further.

Everyone they’d met so far had left fingerprints on Ding Lan’s bicycle. Strangers with no work or life overlap were more suspicious.

Mu Zhiyang glanced at his master, Wei Zhenguo, who showed no sign of asking questions. He followed routine, asked the necessary questions, reconfirmed contact details, and they prepared to leave.

Tan Yong politely saw them out.

“Alright. Let’s go rest,” Mu Zhiyang pressed the ground floor button, watching the elevator doors close, his whole body slumping with the laziness of a traveling cop.

“This guy is off.” Wei Zhenguo watched the elevator floor numbers count down, his muscles slowly tensing.

Mu Zhiyang looked at Wei Zhenguo in surprise, instinctively saying: “He’s a state-owned enterprise employee, no criminal record…”

Wei Zhenguo slowly shook his head.

“Then what’s off?”

“He’s different from the others.”

Mu Zhiyang understood Wei Zhenguo meant the other interviewees. He recalled: “Others were state-owned too. Most were younger. Tan Yong’s over thirty, but not the oldest…”

“Not that kind of difference,” Wei Zhenguo shook his head again.

“Then what—”

“This Tan Yong…” Wei Zhenguo frowned, repeating: “This Tan Yong is uglier than all the others.”

“Huh?”

“Think carefully. Everyone we’ve met today, yesterday, the day before—all the men, they’re good-looking. All better-looking than you.” Wei Zhenguo spoke faster as he pulled out his phone and typed a message: “Only Tan Yong is uglier than you.”

Mu Zhiyang was baffled, almost laughed but dared not, helplessly said: “Being ugly doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

“Being ugly gives him no reason to touch Ding Lan’s bicycle,” Wei Zhenguo continued typing, organizing his thoughts: “So far, those who touched Ding Lan’s bicycle and left fingerprints fall into three categories. First: her four office colleagues—we haven’t met any of them. Second: her few female friends. Third: we assumed her ex-boyfriends or men she met online. But after meeting them all, I noticed one thing—they’re all good-looking. Except Tan Yong.”

Mu Zhiyang followed his logic, his body tensing: “You’re right. Ding Lan’s a looks guy—she picks men based on appearance?”

“We can confirm her standards later by talking to her colleagues and friends. But the men who touched her bicycle—all better-looking than you… except Tan Yong!”

“You don’t need to keep emphasizing that…” Mu Zhiyang smiled bitterly, then hesitated: “But Tan Yong did work at Ding Lan’s factory—he might’ve accidentally touched her bicycle…”

“Hmm, you have a point. Don’t spook him yet. Let’s find evidence first.” Wei Zhenguo’s eyes gleamed.