"What did he say?"
"He said… 'Humans are a very peculiar sort of animal. Take physical training, for example. High-intensity anaerobic exercise combined with long periods of low energy-consumption walking will have a much better outcome than maintaining a moderate intensity of jogging. Training the mind follows the same logic. Given invariable beatings and scoldings, she'll become accustomed, numb, even hover on the edge of attempts at rebellion. So the key thing for you to do is create a set of rules and an atmosphere with distinct rewards and punishments. When she does well, you have to give her an appropriate reward. When she breaks the rules, you have to mete out the most severe punishment. That level just now works. You have to crush her at one blow…'"
The investigator paused the mini-recorder and looked up at the man across from him.
Pan Yunteng had been repeatedly questioned for half a week and had managed to remain unruffled, but his eyes were bloodshot. His expression had been somewhat dazed at first, but when he'd heard halfway through the recording, the dazed expression had cracked open. He looked up at the investigator in disbelief, then stared fixedly at the little mini-recorder, as though a demon were about to jump out of it. "He…said that?"
"Fan Siyuan's own words. Fei Du's signature is on the testimony," the investigator said. "Do you need to see it?"
Fei Du and Pan Yunteng were at two completely opposite extremes. One had an answer for every question, the other had a mouth like a clam. Zhang Chunjiu had said the Picture Album Project hadn't been named by him, pushing Pan Yunteng into the heart of the struggle. But apart from acknowledging that he had named the second Picture Album Project, Pan Yunteng hadn't said a word from start to finish.
"You knew that Fan Siyuan wasn't dead." The investigator stared into his eyes. "That's why you named the second Picture Album Project."
Pan Yunteng's posture was somewhat rigid.
"You anonymously reported that Wang Hongliang and the Flower Market District Sub-Bureau were taking part in drug trafficking. Using your position, you went through special channels. In the back half of that report, you referred obliquely to the former director-general Zhang Chunjiu's negligence, even intentional harboring, and called into question the crime rate during his term of office, saying it was so low as to be suspect. Since there was absolutely no basis for the latter half of your suspicions, it was cut off and withheld.—Who gave you the material for that report?"
"As a citizen, I have the right to anonymously report lawbreakers, and the right to protect my personal safety and freedom from being threatened because of my report!" Pan Yunteng said, gritting his teeth. "Who gave you the authority to force me to tell you the source of my information?"
The investigator said, "You can anonymously report, but that doesn't mean you can anonymously denounce on false charges, anonymously say whatever comes to mind."
"The evidence about Wang Hongliang was conclusive. Was that denouncing on false charges?"
"What about the accusation you made against Zhang Chunjiu? Is there also evidence of it? If there is, please hand it over."
Pan Yunteng choked slightly.
"It's all guesswork." The investigator looked at him and tapped the mini-recorder next to him. "Professor Pan, did you guess that Fan Siyuan was this kind of person?"
Pan Yunteng's eyes flashed faintly. He stared at the mini-recorder without making a sound.
"Why would you allow a student who had just started school to join the Picture Album Project?"
Pan Yunteng's cheeks tensed.
"Because I read his assignments. He submitted papers concerning 'victims of vicious crimes' and 'communal crimes.' Those were precisely Fan Siyuan's areas of research before he went off the rails!
"I…"
"You thought that Fan Siyuan had sent him. You thought he'd joined the Picture Album Project with the same aim as you! You didn't think that he was one of the victims in these papers." The investigator slammed the table. "Professor Pan, you're an elder in the field and a model for others, widely respected. Do you wallow in the mire with that sort of person?"
Pan Yunteng said, "I didn't…"
"When Lu Guosheng was captured, you listened in on the interrogation," the investigator said coldly. "I don't know whether you heard this part. In Feng Bin's murder, there was one mysterious individual called 'go ask shatov,' and another with the codename A13. They drove Lu Guosheng to exposure step by step. Who do you guess arranged that? Let me tell you, concerning this point, Director Lu personally questioned Fu Jiahui, and she didn't deny it. They used an innocent minor as a prop, as an offering. Professor Pan, were you entirely ignorant of this?"
Driven past the point of endurance, Pan Yunteng took off his glasses, put his elbows on the table, and rubbed at his haggard cheeks.
"Professor, where is your conscience?"
"The materials for the report on Wang Hongliang came from my…from Fu Jiahui."
Hearing him speak at last, the investigator secretly sighed and motioned for the staff member next to him to take notes.
"I was very shocked when I'd read it and asked where this thing had come from. She said it came from the brother of one of the victims, called Chen Zhen, and it had indirectly reached an old friend of hers. I didn't dare to trust lightly and secretly met with Chen Zhen and found a way to review the details about Chen Yuan's case. I found that the girl's death really had been suspicious. If this was true, then I knew I couldn't let it go. Though there was something very strange about it. I asked Fu Jiahui why she had come to me, when I'd left the City Bureau long ago. Why didn't she give these things directly to Zhang Chunjiu? Even going through me, I'd still go to Lao Zhang to resolve it. I couldn't go around him and send these things to his superiors. What kind of a position would that put Lao Zhang in? Wouldn't it be an injustice to him? That's not how things are done."
Pan Yunteng raised his head slowly. "Fu Jiahui said…she said, 'Who doesn't know this business is his responsibility? Do you think he's going to do anything about it? I suppose you don't know how Gu Zhao and Lao Yang died, either?' Then she took out Lao Yang's testament and had me read it. That's when I learned that when he died in the line of duty three years ago he was privately investigating Gu Zhao's case afresh. I looked at the photographs he'd secretly taken. He'd nearly found the den of those wanted criminals. His own strength wasn't enough. He needed to find someone to assist him and made the same mistake as Gu Zhao, trusted someone he shouldn't have trusted."
"'Someone he shouldn't have trusted' means Zhang Chunjiu."
"I can't think of who else it could be," Pan Yunteng said quietly. "I demanded to know who her so-called 'old friend' was, and that's when I learned that he…he wasn't dead."
The last "he" evidently meant Fan Siyuan. The investigator followed up, "Have you had contact with Fan Siyuan? Have you seen him with your own eyes?"
"…yes."
Though he'd anticipated this, hearing him confirm that this person had returned from the dead, the investigator still sucked in a breath. "When?"
"This summer, the end of July, I'm thinking… It must have been the last day of July. Lao Lu's wife wasn't home, he was on his own and came to my house to eat. My wife is a distant cousin of his. He was even the one who introduced us, and the two families have always been on good terms. Before we'd finished eating, he got a phone call. I heard him say 'sister-in-law' and knew that it was Fu Jiahui calling him. My heart lurched. I dimly felt something was going on. On the phone, Fu Jiahui said that Yang Xin had some problem at school. She'd gone out of town and wanted him to help. As soon as Lao Lu heard, he left in a hurry without even finishing his food. Less than five minutes after he left, our doorbell rang."
"Fan Siyuan came to your house?" The investigator sat up straight, his speech involuntarily speeding up. "A serial killer come back from the dead was standing in front of you, and you didn't call the police?"
"Because he was with Fu Jiahui." Pan Yunteng breathed out heavily. "He was in a wheelchair. He'd aged, aged so much he hardly looked like himself. If his bearing hadn't been the same as before, I would hardly have recognized him. The first words he said when he came in were, 'It's been a long time, Xiao Pan. Do you want to know who sold out your brothers?'"
"What did he make you do?"
"He didn't make me do anything." Pan Yunteng's gaze was somewhat vacant. He smiled bitterly. "I'd already handed in the report materials, and I'd started up the second Picture Album Project. He had no use for me. He said he'd only come to say goodbye. He told me to look after the second Picture Album Project, and that everything would soon be over."
Everything would soon be over.
On the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth lunar month, the holiday rush was like a raging fire.
Before five in the morning, Zhou Huaijin was startled awake by a resonant segment of Five Rings Song.
Out of consideration for his personal safety, Zhou Huaijin hadn't gone back to the hotel. His temporary abode was Luo Wenzhou's living room—the rooms had all been given to the wounded and the girls, and the other men had scrambled around for space to hole up, all of them getting covered in cat hair.
Zhou Huaijin blearily opened his eyes a crack and saw Luo Wenzhou pick up the phone.
Luo Wenzhou was sitting in a small rattan chair on the balcony, the ashtray in front of him so full it was about to overflow. You couldn't say how many cigarettes he'd smoked. It was still dark, and he was fully dressed, his expression alert. Maybe he'd gotten up early, or maybe he hadn't slept in the first place. "Hello, Tao Ran?"
Tao Ran sat in a wheelchair. Both sides of the hospital corridor were full of sleeping relatives of patients who'd come from out of town and couldn't bear to go to a hotel. While there were many people, hardly any were awake, only two people from the investigation team discussing something with a doctor at the doors of the ICU. They looked somewhat lonely.
Tao Ran didn't make a sound for ages. Luo Wenzhou looked at the clock and suddenly had an ominous premonition.
"Wenzhou, shiniang is gone."
Luo Wenzhou froze, not knowing what he was feeling.
When she'd been alive, he hadn't been on good terms with Fu Jiahui at all. When he'd heard her dialogue with Director Lu from outside the hospital room, he'd had even less of an idea of how to face her. Now he'd been spared the trouble. "We are the reciters of the stories" had become her last words.
A few people who, like Zhou Huaijin, hadn't been sleeping soundly, had also been disturbed by his cheerful ringtone. Seeing that something was wrong with Luo Wenzhou's expression, they all silently sat up, looking at him.
The phone signal carried through the howling of the north wind, adding a taste of bitter cold to the voice coming over it. Tao Ran asked, "Has Yang Xin…still not been found?"
Just then, Lu Jia, his injured arm hanging up, came out of the bedroom. He couldn't do up the buttons of Luo Wenzhou's pajama top and could only awkwardly drape it over himself. There were still bruises and lacerations on his face from the other day's late-night thrill. He had a strong sense of presence wherever he went.
"Someone pretending to be a taxi driver took President Fei to the villa that day. We followed them and found that they'd gone right out of the city to L City, near Binhai, stopping in a nearby county town called West Second Strand."
Xiao Haiyang finished wiping his glasses and put them on. His voice a little nasal, he said, "I know the place. There's a wholesale market for small commodities and online shops running nearby. The wholesalers all go there to collect goods. There's a great number of people going through, the crooks and the good people together. It's very easy to hide."
"Right. They've rented a very remote little warehouse. There's more than one parking spot. It looks like a stronghold. Our people didn't alert them. They've been staking the place out and just saw a strange car drive in." Lu Jia showed Luo Wenzhou a few photographs that had been sent over. "Is this the car you've been looking for?"
At first glance, Luo Wenzhou didn't look at the license plate number. He only saw the profile of a young girl wearing a white down jacket and recognized her as Yang Xin.
"Boss." Xiao Wu hadn't caught the team of vicious motorcyclists. As soon as he heard there was news, he was raring for action. "What do we do? Go after them?"
On the phone, Tao Ran was also silently waiting for his answer.
Luo Wenzhou carefully looked through the photographs that had been sent over. "Xiao Wu, take a few people, borrow a truck, and go to West Second Strand. Ask the special police to assist. You have to bring every single one of them back."
Xiao Wu leapt up like a live fish.
"I'll tell my people to cooperate," Lu Jia said.
"Wait!" Luo Wenzhou called Xiao Wu to a stop.
"Boss, what else is there?"
Luo Wenzhou hesitated for a moment. "Be…be careful. Our target is the person behind them. We have to bring them back and interrogate them. Do your best not to harm them."
Xiao Wu stared, understood what he meant, gave an "oh," and left with some people.
The overcrowded living room had emptied by half. Xiao Haiyang washed his face. "Captain Luo, what's our next step?"
"Tell me what you've found out about Yang Bo's mother."
"She was called Zhuo Yingchun. She died of illness eighteen months ago. She was fifty-three years old at the time of her death. Her permanent residence and place of birth were both in H Town, but her birth is unclear," Xiao Haiyang said. "I asked about it, and they told me that her identity information isn't necessarily true. People of her age didn't get IDs as soon as they were born, and a lot of the information was later self-reported. Some may not even be the right age. Her only recorded relatives are from the Yang family, following her marriage. Her own parents and siblings are unknown. The civil policeman who deals with the household register said that in those circumstances, she may have been an orphan, or she could have been kidnapped and sold. It's hard to tell what happened a few decades ago. We may have to go there to ask around."
"Come on." Luo Wenzhou stood up. "We're all awake. When we've resolved this, we'll come back and make up the sleep."
In late winter, it was nearly seven o'clock before the sky showed the first glimmer of dawn. The long night, still not ended, made people and animals lazy. And there were also people wandering about in a desperate plight.
A low-key personal sedan was mixed into the traffic jam on the highway caused by the army of people returning to their hometowns. As it slowly approached the toll booth, Su Cheng's palms holding the steering wheel were full of cold sweat.