Myanmar, Mong La.
The temple was surrounded by jungle on all sides, and the dense greenery that looked like a painting in the daytime had turned into ghosts crawling out of hell in the dark night. The flaming torches lit up the sky above the village, and the loud crackling sound was accompanied by the soughing of the wind in the trees, which carried the cries of the monks far away.
Five Humvees with headlights turned on formed a circle, and several Burmese men with submachine guns stood outside the cars. The gloomy banditry on their faces was reflected by the firelight. In the open space in front of the temple, the King of Spades bent down, facing the abbot, who was as pale as the earth. He clicked the picture in his hand and asked in Chinese, "Where is he?"
The abbot burst into tears, shaking his head vigorously. He twitched and muttered, wanting to break free from the shackles, and kowtowed to beg for mercy.
The dark eyes behind the King of Spades sunglasses were very calm, and there was no sign of impatience. He repeated the question in Burmese:
"Where is he?"
"@#￥*Y*&…" The abbot shook his head violently and cried. The monks behind him whimpered in unison.
The King of Spades stood up helplessly, took a breath, and paused for a few seconds.
Then he suddenly drew his gun and aimed it at the center of the abbot's forehead, shooting it neatly!
Bang!
There was a bloody hole in the head of the old abbot; his eyes were wide open, and he fell to the ground.
The surroundings were quiet, and then some people screamed, some fainted, and some struggled to climb forward but were grabbed by the drug dealer. The King of Spades seemed to have heard nothing, and he walked to the next monk calmly and asked the same question: "Where is he?"
The monk was not old. He had already peed his pants in fear, staring at the old man in the monk's robe in the photo. It took a long time for him to make a sound: "Really, I really don't know. I really don't know. I beg you, spare my life, spare my life—"
The King of Spades asked: "Really don't know?"
"I really haven't seen him, I don't know, please, please—"
Bang!
The gunshot echoed for a long time. The monk's body was splattered with dust, and his eyes weren't even closed until the end.
The cry of sorrow rose in the open space like a living blood sea in a shura field. The King of Spades seemed a little tired; he closed his eyes, put away the gun, casually shoved the photo to A-Jie behind him, and made a careless gesture.
A-Jie took half a step forward and raised the photo, showing it around in the open space and asking sharply in Burmese: "Who knows the whereabouts of this person? If you say it, you can live! Otherwise, you will all die here today!"
His voice was extremely penetrating and instantly suppressed all the screams. But then, a sharper cry of despair sounded from all sides of the space, even causing the wild beasts in the mountains and forests to howl, rushing into the distance with the wind.
The King of Spades rubbed his forehead, stepped over the old abbot's body, and walked toward the off-road vehicle outside the clearing.
The Burmese subordinates hurried to catch up to him: "Boss."
"It seems like they aren't lying." The King of Spades said lazily, then paused and ordered: "Clean it up."
His subordinates immediately responded. After exchanging glances with A-Jie, several men with submachine guns stepped forward.
Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da—
The sound of submachine guns resounded through the open space, and the shrill cry exploded in an instant and quickly disappeared. Eight or nine torches flew into the temple with their tail flames. After a while, the whole building turned into a burning fire, and billowing black smoke flew into the ink-like night sky.
"Big brother." A-Jie got into the Humvee, and his eyes seemed to be slightly uneasy: "It's already the third temple; what should we do now?"
The King of Spades leaned back on the back seat, his face reflecting the hideous fire outside the window, and he seemed to be resting with his eyes closed. His moody appearance made A-Jie very uneasy. After a while, he suddenly heard him speak: "There should be someone else who knows where he is."
A-Jie was stunned and immediately reacted, "You mean—"
The King of Spades didn't answer directly but waved his hand: "Go to Daluo."
A-Jie hurriedly went to instruct the driver. The Humvee started with a roar, the lights were connected in a line, and one after another they drove to the jungle and disappeared into the distance.
...…
Jianning.
The lights were turned off in the bedroom, and the thick curtains blocked the outside world, leaving only the scorching and dizzying world on the bed.
Most of the quilt had already fallen on the carpet, and the other half swayed up and down greatly in the dark. Every time it sank down, there would be a rapid gasp from the blanket, which seemed to be very painful, but its cause was something that couldn't be said.
The voice was extremely subtle because of its excessive hoarseness, almost inaudible. As if dissatisfied with this, the frequency of the movements became more and more rapid and ferocious, almost crushing the person moaning into pieces.
"…Yan…Yan Xie…!"
The vague sound was finally squeezed out because of the continuous high-frequency impact and was immediately knocked off by the last few bursts. Yan Xie finally completed the siege with a victorious attitude. While shooting at the deepest part of Jiang Ting's body, he again pulled Jiang Ting's hand out of the bed sheet with all his might, grabbed it in his own palm, and brought it to his mouth to kiss.
Jiang Ting couldn't breathe; his chest tightened until the long ejaculation process ended, and then he sank into exhaustion. His whole body was in a mess, and the muscles in his inner thighs were spasming. Yan Xie turned on the bedside lamp only to see that Jiang Ting's black eyelashes were wet, his eyebrows were slightly twisted, and he seemed uncomfortable.
Yan Xie leaned over and licked his brow with the tip of his tongue, gently and patiently, until he smoothed out the frown. He then got up to warm a cup of sweet milk, came back to hug Jiang Ting, who was half asleep, and slowly fed it to him.
"Let me take a shower…" Jiang Ting said vaguely.
Yan Xie said, "Later."
He harbored some kind of secret expectation in his heart that Jiang Ting would forget it later, but he did not expect that after drinking half a glass of warm milk, the corners of Jiang Ting's brows would wrinkle again, whispering: "Let me take a bath…"
Yan Xie had to carry him to the bathroom on his shoulders. Under the hot shower, he pressed him against the wall and kissed and penetrated intermittently. It took them half an hour to wash before coming out.
Jiang Ting was already very tired. When he came out of the bathroom, he almost fell asleep. The moment he touched the pillow, he seemed to be a little awake. He frowned and asked hoarsely: "…Are you taking medicine?"
Yan Xie gave a low laugh but didn't answer. After a few seconds, Jiang Ting fell asleep, and the freshly dried black hair fell onto the snow-white pillow.
Yan Xie took away the bath towel wrapped around him, put on clean and soft pajamas, leaned over the pillow with one hand on his forehead, and carefully observed Jiang Ting's quiet breathing in his sleep. The yellow lamp shadow was rendered on his fair side cheeks, his eyebrows were neat and clean, and his eyes were very long. This appearance was a bit too beautiful for a man, but the bridge of his nose was unexpectedly straight, so it neutralized the overly soft look, and the nose cast a right-angled shadow on his face, showing a slightly cold temperament.
Yan Xie picked up the hair on his forehead. Although the wound cut by broken glass on the winding mountain road had healed, it was still clearly visible.
"..." Yan Xie's eyes flickered, and he kept rubbing the scar with his thumb, and a trace of complicated emotions gradually filled his eyes. After a while, he turned around and picked up the mobile phone on the bedside table. For the first time in the past two days, he opened WeChat and turned on the chat window.
On the street that evening, every word in the message sent by Qi Sihao was like a knife deeply piercing Yan Xie's heart:
[Yazhi Garden, Room 905, Building A, Zone 6]
[This is written on the intranet.]
——This was Jiang Ting's address in Gongzhou before the accident.
When Yan Xie was in Gongzhou, he suddenly became curious about Jiang Ting's life, so he asked Qi Sihao to use the police network to investigate and tell him. At that time, Qi Sihao was still wondering why he didn't ask Jiang Ting directly, but he just passed by him with a low laugh.
In fact, Yan Xie didn't have any intention of inquiring. The main reason was that if there was anything suspicious about Jiang Ting, his house had already been searched numerous times by the task force after the 1009 operation. The reason he didn't ask directly was that he wanted to sneak over and secretly observe Jiang Ting's various small habits before.
He once guessed that the community where Jiang Ting used to live should not be too far from the Gongzhou Municipal Bureau, but the area wasn't very good. After all, Jiang Ting's work was here, and he was not the kind of person who paid attention to his quality of life. He also wondered if Jiang Ting would set up his home like a police academy dorm, with a strict, careful, and abstinence-filled sense of tidiness, and a dislike for the smell of smoke.
But what he never expected was that Jiang Ting would live in Yazhi Garden.
He had been to this place on the second day of Wang Xingye's fall from the building.
Before the 1009 plastic factory explosion, the Queen of Hearts confirmation order for the transaction location was sent from Room 701 of a certain building in this community.
——The traces left by Queen of Hearts and Jiang Ting's address, which he never announced to the public, couldn't be coincidences.
...….
Monday, early morning.
Yan Xie hurriedly tugged up the cuffs of his shirt, grabbed the windbreaker hanging on the porch, and put it on. While putting on his shoes, he casually styled his hair against the glass, saying, "I'm going out!"
At the dining table behind him, Jiang Ting didn't lift his head: "Come back. "
"It's already 9:20. At 10:00 in the morning, Chief Lu will personally take over the weekly meeting. If I arrive late, I have to write a self-criticism in front of everyone. Tell me what you want." As he spoke, Yan Xie turned and walked over quickly, but before his words could fall, his mouth was stuffed with an egg toast sandwich. He couldn't help but make a "squeak," and then he saw Jiang Ting put his hand into his windbreaker and unbutton the shirt on his abdomen.
"..." Yan Xie was quite startled, stunned for two seconds, and then he reflexively held his breath and stretched his abdominal muscles: "Your body can't handle it; don't make trouble, just give me a kiss…"
Jiang Ting said, "Kiss yourself in front of the mirror." Then he rearranged the last two buttons that he had buttoned wrongly and tucked the hem of his clothes back into the waistband of his trousers.
Yan Xie was not without regret. He grabbed Jiang Ting and kissed him on the forehead, then quickly went out to work. The clanging sound of the door closing reverberated in the empty living room for a long time.
A few minutes later, the Phaeton he usually drove came out of the garage, turned around in a neat triangle, and sped towards the gate of the community.
Jiang Ting stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window with his arms crossed. His eyelashes lowered, and the glass reflected his dark pupils. It was not until Phaeton completely disappeared at the end of the straight lane of the community that he retracted his gaze and sighed softly.
A barely visible white mist drifted across the glass.
He picked up the mobile phone beside him and changed the SIM card. Then he hesitated for a moment after the phone restarted and finally dialed an international number.
Didi – Didi –
"Hello?"
The floor-to-ceiling windows reflected Jiang Ting's clear and emotionless face, his voice completely inaudible, saying: "Hello, I want to donate incense to a local temple through your office. How can I do it?"
...…
Fifty minutes later, Yan Xie rushed into the conference room, wrapped in the cold wind. He lowered his head and walked quickly through the crowd, pulling out his chair as quickly as possible without attracting attention. As soon as he sat down, he looked around vigilantly—fortunately, except for Deputy Chief Wei, who was in the front row glaring at him, no one noticed that Vice Captain Yan was late for eight or nine meetings in the past six months.
Yan Xie heaved a sigh of relief, but suddenly realized that something was wrong: What about Chief Lu?
The minute hand pointed to a quarter past ten, and there was a constant buzzing in the large conference room, but the main seat for Chief Lu was empty, and even his large tea mug was missing.
"Don't look, Brother Yan," Ma Xiang, who was sitting behind him, sidled up and whispered, "You are lucky today; Chief Lu hasn't come yet."
"What happened?"
Ma Xiang used a notebook to block his face: "I don't know, the first round summary just now was made by Old Wei on behalf of Chief Lu… Brother Yan, did you fight with Consultant Lu this weekend and he scratched the back of your neck?"
Yan Xie stretched out his hand and hurriedly pulled up the back collar of his shirt: "Go, go! Go home and watch your harem!"
Ma Xiang pouted and wanted to piss him off when suddenly the conference room door opened. Everyone sat upright in an instant, only to see Secretary Zhang from the chief's office walking in quickly, leaning into Deputy Chief Wei's ear, and whispering something. After a while, Old Wei nodded.
"This," Deputy Chief Wei cleared his throat and said loudly, "Officer Lu is not here today. When he went downstairs just now, he sprained his foot and broke his tea mug."
Everyone around was surprised and let out a low laugh.
"I will preside over our weekly meeting today. It is customary for each department to report last week's key work and projects—Director Little Gou… I mean, Director Gou Li, report first."
Gou Li stood up with a stern face. Yan Xie was looking at him laughing when suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Secretary Zhang bend down through the crowd and come straight to him: "Vice-captain Yan…"
"Huh?"
Yan Xie looked up, only to see secretary Zhang gently leaning over to his ear and saying, "Officer Lu has an urgent matter, he wants to see you."
...…
Chief Lu's large tea mug was placed on the table. He was brewing his usual healthy tea with chrysanthemums, wolfberries, red dates, and rock sugar, and the heat spiraled up in the air.
"What?" Yan Xie was extremely surprised: "Ministry of Public Security?"
Chief Lu's body was squeezed on the large leather swivel chair—after all, he had to add rock sugar to his tea—and, after removing his reading glasses, he rubbed his eyes tiredly, nodded "yup" when he heard the words, and turned the computer screen to him.
"After the new fentanyl compound "Blue Gold" was reported to us, the Ministry of Public Security attached great importance to it and carried out a large-scale investigation in the southwest region. Several notices have also been sent to the Myanmar side for this purpose. Last Friday, the Myanmar military informed our country of the latest situation. Three temples in remote areas around Mong La were massacred and burned, and a group of drug dealers that were arrested had identified the King of Spades."
The picture on the screen was reflected in Yan Xie's pupils—it was obviously a candid shot.
The background of the camera was quite dilapidated. It should be in front of a temple enshrined in a village on the border of Myanmar. The blazing sun scorched the jungle, making the picture quality very unclear. Several men with very obvious Burmese ancestry stood beside an off-road vehicle, each with some kind of weapon in their arms. A young man in a black vest and pants was getting out of the car. His build was very agile, with a gun inserted in the belt on his thigh. He poured half a bottle of mineral water over his head with his hand.
Even though he was only looking sideways, Yan Xie recognized his old acquaintance, A-Jie, at a glance.
At the same time, not far from the front of the car, a figure walked toward the gate of the temple with his back to the camera. In such a hot situation, he wore a shirt and trousers. The overexposed white borders on the edge of the picture engulfed half of his figure, but it can still be seen that he was walking up the stairs slowly; from the subtle movements of his limbs to the range of his steps, there was a sense of calmness.
Yan Xie's eyes darkened slightly: "King of Spades?"
Chief Lu nodded and tapped on the screen: "This image was from half a month ago. Just half a day later, the only two monks in this village temple were killed, and the building was burned."
The office was silent, with only Yan Xie's breathing and Chief Lu's sipping tea.
"…How did this photo come about?" Yan Xie finally asked after a long while.
"Automatic camera." Chief Lu shook his head and put the big tea mug back on the table with a thud: "Mong La, Myanmar borders our country. It is an extralegal place where drug trafficking, smuggling, and gambling are common. A group of "caravans" were recently apprehended by armed police at our country's border while they were attempting to smuggle them in. Because we have a cooperation agreement with Myanmar, we temporarily handed them back to the Myanmar military for interrogation. It turned out that the drug trafficking organization to which this caravan was affiliated could almost be regarded as the opponent of the King of Spades. After the Myanmar side stepped up the interrogation, the drug dealer gave a very important message, saying that the King of Spades recently took a few photos to find someone at the temple near Mong La."
Yan Xie's forehead jumped: "Looking for someone?"
Chief Lu clicked "next page" a little forcefully, as old people do while using a mouse.
Click—
A photo that has been faxed, scanned, and re-photographed several times appeared on the screen. An elderly monk in his 60s or 70s was wearing a red-yellow robe. His wrinkled eyelids drooped down as he sat upright in the Buddhist sanctuary, arms bare.
He didn't know if it was because the quality of the remake was really poor or because of the suspicious psychological effect of the criminal investigators; the monk's face was not at all stable or peaceful. On the contrary, when Yan Xie stared at it, he even vaguely felt a kind of inexplicable viciousness.
"It's just a suspicion," Chief Lu held the big tea mug in one hand and pointed at the screen with the other, saying solemnly, "but this person may be the father of the King of Spades."