"Zhou Yahou's assistant comes from a collateral branch of the Zhou family. His Chinese name is Zhou Chao. After Zhou Junmao came to power, this person was arrested and sent to prison due to misappropriating company funds," Zhou Huaijin said as he looked at a map. "Later, because he injured someone in prison and then attempted to break out, his prison sentence was constantly extended. I went through a bunch of people and found a bit of a lead. Supposedly this person is still alive. He's over seventy. He changed his name after getting out of prison and has been hiding in a small town in C—. By coincidence, he got out of prison the same year Zheng Kaifeng gave Zhou Junmao the fake DNA test result. Do you think…"
Lu Jia was holding an ice cream, looking around pensively. Hearing this, he smiled. "Very likely. Your mom also mistakenly thought you weren't Zhou Junmao's biological child. For the sake of protecting you, a mother would do anything. It's entirely possible this Zhou Chao hasn't been found because she hid him."
Having gone through the life and death chase in Yan City, as soon as Lu Jia's big head started revolving vigilantly, Zhou Huaijin felt nervous. He quickly started looking wildly around, too. "What is it? We aren't being followed again, are we?"
Lu Jia smiled, narrowing his eyes. "You just noticed? I figure they got their eyes on you as soon as you got back to your old house."
"What?!"
The night before, giving "too many people, I don't want to be a bother" as his reason, Lu Jia hadn't gone back to the old house with Zhou Huaijin, only sending two bodyguards to accompany him. The rest had gone ahead to arrange the hotel.
Zhou Huaijin hadn't minded at the time, because having managed to return to a familiar place, he'd relaxed in spite of himself and slept soundly. He absolutely hadn't expected that the people who wanted to kill him would have followed him here like malevolent spirits.
Zhou Huaijin quickly twisted his head towards Lu Jia. "You already knew that…"
"Relax, they wouldn't have touched you yesterday." Lu Jia licked the ice cream. As if his tongue was barbed, half the ice cream disappeared in one lick. "They don't have as many connections here as you do. First they have to work out who you're looking for, bide their time, then catch you both in one go."
Zhou Huaijin: "…"
He couldn't see what about this merited relaxing.
Messily licking the ice cream, Lu Jia put his arm over Zhou Huaijin's shoulders, not letting him look around left and right, pushing him forward. "You haven't noticed that all my people are here? Let's go. You may not trust be able to trust me, but can't you trust President Fei?"
The place where this old man who had worked for Zhou Yahou lived was very remote, a rundown little compound, totally undecorated. The gate had just been swept, so it was at least clean. Lu Jia shot a look at one of his cronies, and a few people scattered smartly, lying low in the backyard.
Then Zhou Huaijin walked over and knocked on the door. After a moment, a female foreigner inside asked who was there over the intercom at the door.
Zhou Huaijin looked at Lu Jia. Lu Jia nodded, indicating that he should tell the truth. So he cleared his throat and announced Zhou Chao's alias. "May I ask whether he lives here? My surname is Zhou. I'm the son of an old friend of his."
There was silence inside for a while. Then an East Asian-looking middle-aged woman stuck out her head and looked nervously at the crowd of uninvited guests. With a very forced smile, she said, "I think you're talking about the person who used to live here. We only moved in last month."
Zhou Huaijin frowned and took a photograph of an old man from his pocket. "Could you please tell me whether you've seen the previous resident? Is this him?"
The woman hesitated. Waffling, she took the photograph. Maybe she was face-blind or something; she looked it over for an age, then haltingly said, "I'm not really sure…"
Just then, there was an explosive shout in the backyard: "Stop!"
The woman's hand shook; the alarm on her face couldn't be hidden any longer. The photograph fell to the ground—she had been buying time!
Lu Jia looked over calmly and saw a white-headed old man climbing over the backyard hedge like a character in a martial arts film. While the housekeeper had been distracting the uninvited guests at the door, the venerable old fellow had seized the opportunity to make a break for it. You could see he didn't suffer from arthritis; his legs were nimble enough for parkour.
Lu Jia stretched out his neck and sighed feelingly. "Wow, that one's old but vigorous!"
Unfortunately, Zhou Chao hadn't expected that the people who'd come to find him would have prepared ahead of time. As soon as they saw him show his face, the people lying in wait in the backyard swarmed up and quickly caught the old man who was fleeing as quickly as a hare. Lu Jia bent down and picked up the photograph the woman had dropped. He'd wanted to say something, but searching his guts and his belly, he found that of the foreign language he'd learned at school, only "thank you," "goodbye," and "good morning" remained; he could only shut his mouth like a great immortal, displaying an enigmatic smile.
This scene was photographed.
Not far behind Lu Jia and the others, in an unobtrusive white business car, a man in full battle gear put down his binoculars, adjusted the angle of his sniper rifle, and sent out the photograph of Zhou Huaijin, Lu Jia, and the crowd of people holding down the old man. He asked his employer, "Confirmation? We have to act."
In Yan City, China, separated by many hours' time difference from the small town in C—, darkness had already fallen.
Zhang Chunjiu picked up the phone, listened for a moment without making a sound, then suddenly raised his head and said heavily to Zhang Chunling, "Someone went to look for Donglai at the office."
To hoodwink the public, after they'd secretly sent Zhang Donglai and his sister away, Zhang Chunjiu had found someone to pretend to be Zhang Donglai and come and go from the office as usual—there weren't many people in the office now, and nothing to do. The fake Zhang Donglai, wearing a face mask and dark glasses, wouldn't have a problem going under the radar as long as he avoided saying too much to the employees on duty, creating the false impression that everything was as usual at the Chunlai Conglomerate…as long as no one went to look for him on purpose.
Why had the investigation team suddenly wanted to find Zhang Donglai?
Who had leaked?
The two brothers exchanged a look. Zhang Chunjiu quickly pulled open the curtains and looked out. The city's evening lights had been lit, passing through the hazy mist, jubilantly filling the air. It was a tranquil and auspicious scene.
So tranquil it made a person have an ominous premonition.
Someone knocked gently on the door and said gravely, "Chairman Zhang, we've located Zhou Huaijin. He's found an old man called Zhou Chao. We'd like to request guidance. Should we move at once?"
Zhang Chunling took a phone from his hand and saw the photograph that had been sent over; it was very clear. The old ethnically Chinese man was looking at Zhou Huaijin in alarm. His face had changed, and it was ashen pale, but after all these years Zhang Chunling still recognized him at a glance. "It's one of Zhou Yahou's people. He came to Heng'an."
Zhang Chunjiu seized the phone. "Why is he still alive? What were Zhou Junmao and Zheng Kaifeng up to all those years?"
"I don't think it's so strange. Zheng Kaifeng was greedy and lecherous, Zhou Junmao was indecisive, the two of them were as close as brothers but divided at heart under an appearance of harmony, and there was Zhou Yahou's woman in the middle. It's normal for a slip-up to happen.—Don't be impatient. We can take this opportunity to eradicate the trouble at its roots. Tell them to move." Unhurriedly, Zhang Chunling said, "It's fine, I don't believe they can have any evidence, and I don't believe they can dig up the traces of things that happened forty years ago. So what if Donglai isn't there? Which of the nation's laws am I violating by sending my son abroad?"
Zhang Chunjiu focused. "Dage, you should get away."
"What about you?" Zhang Chunling said noncommittally.
"The investigation isn't over yet. Leaving now would amount to a confession. I'll stay to take care of the follow-up," Zhang Chunjiu said. "Don't worry, I can extricate myself."
Zhang Chunling looked at him deeply.
"Dage," Zhang Chunjiu suddenly said out of nowhere, "I remember back then it was also winter, and you…you hid me in the coal basket. There was soot everywhere, I got covered all over, my face all black, and I watched from the basket…"
Zhang Chunling's expression changed. He interrupted him. "Enough. What are you talking about that for?"
Zhang Chunjiu lowered his head. The wind and frost of over fifty years had forged for him a copper skin and iron bones. He was shifty and inconstant, all-conquering. The seemingly eternal fold in the center of his forehead temporarily relaxed for a moment. He took a coat from the clothes rack and respectfully put it on Zhang Chunling, then passed him a scarf. He said, "That's true, what am I talking about it for? Dage, be safe on your way."
Zhang Chunling hesitated for a moment, took the scarf, and made a gesture at his subordinates. A few people followed him, silently filing out.
Lang Qiao's phone began to vibrate. She looked down and saw that it was her father asking when her lengthy overtime would be over and whether she would have time to visit relatives with her parents for the Spring Festival. Before she could reply, she saw the old director of teaching affairs beckoning to her, carrying a ring of keys.
"Sorry, teacher." Lang Qiao quickly put her personal phone back in her pocket. "I've made you go to the trouble of coming out in the middle of the night right before the New Year."
Following Zhu Feng's evidence, Lang Qiao had found the Fourth Middle School, where the art teacher Yu Bin had taught.
"It's all right. The children have gone traveling, and it's just the two of us left. I'm taking this as a bit of exercise after dinner," the old director said. "Ah, it's been over a decade. I didn't think anyone would still come to investigate Teacher Yu's case. It was too tragic. Such a nice young fellow, it's heart-breaking just to mention.—Well, here we are."
Lang Qiao looked up and saw that "Art Classroom" was written on the door.
"In recent years we've been pursuing higher education entrance rates. The physical education classes are still getting by, but music and arts classes are basically just for show," the old director said. "When Teacher Yu was here, the school had specially enrolled art students. Later the policy changed and our school stopped enrolling them. The art classroom is used for visitors now… Let me see if it's this key."
Saying so, the door creaked open. An uninhabited smell assaulted the senses.
The old director turned on the lights and pointed at a portrait in oils hanging on the wall. "Look, that was painted by Teacher Yu."
Lang Qiao stared. She was a layman who couldn't tell the difference between good and bad painting. She only thought this portrait was very realistic, so realistic she could tell at a glance that the beautifully smiling girl in the picture had exactly the same phoenix eyes and dimples as Zhu Feng. She was wearing a dress, her eyes curved as she smiled at someone outside of the painting. It gave a person a favorable impression.
There was a label under the oil painting with the title, artist, and date on it.
Yu Bin had painted it fifteen years ago. The name of the painting was "Dream Partner."
Now, the immortal smiling face in the painting remained, but the person outside the painting had become a hideous woman filled with rancor.
"Here." The director of teaching affairs opened a display cabinet and said to Lang Qiao, "Young lady, come over here and have a look—is this what you're looking for?"
Lang Qiao quickly went over. The director showed her a displayed certificate of merit. "Before Teacher Yu died, he took his students to paint from life. One of the students entered a painting he did at the time in a contest and got an award. One certificate went to the student and one to the teacher…but sadly Teacher Yu was gone soon after they returned. He didn't have time to see this certificate. Teacher Yu's spouse wasn't in a very good mental state then. Seeing his things hurt her, so these stayed here at the school."
Lang Qiao took the certificate. There was a reproduction of the award-winning work attached to the certificate. It was a very beautiful seaside landscape. Inside the certificate was a yellowed strip of paper that fell out as soon as it was opened.
"That was written by the student. He was on very good terms with Teacher Yu."
Lang Qiao put on gloves and carefully unfolded the paper. Written on it was: "Facing the sea, spring has come and the flowers are in bloom. In memory of our last visit to Binhai with Teacher Yu."
Yu Bin had gone to Binhai before his death!
Lang Qiao's pupils contracted slightly. "Teacher, can you contact this student for me?"