SES Chapter 19

Chapter 19

It was the same day.

Liu Shuhai and Luo Wenmiao—two people who seemed to have nothing to do with each other—had once, in a strangely coincidental moment, appeared at the same place and time, connected by the thinnest of threads.

Luo Ren said, “When we’re investigating crimes that follow the same pattern, we tend to assume the same person committed them years apart. Or, we think there’s some succession—like a father dies, and the son continues the crime. In short, we assume a close connection between the perpetrators.”

That’s exactly why Li Tan accused Cenchunjiao of feeding them false information. He was convinced that Luo Wenmiao was the killer, and to him, this Liu Shuhai, who’d suddenly appeared out of nowhere, was pure fiction. And what about Aunt Hong? When she got the call, she immediately said it was fake too. In her mind, had she also already identified a suspect? Who?

“But what if we come across a case where the perpetrators have no direct connection? What would the reason be?”

Mu Dai blurted out, “Possession?”

As soon as she said it, a chill ran up her arm. She rubbed it quickly and glanced nervously around.

Luo Ren gave a helpless laugh. “I don’t believe in that kind of thing.”

“Shh!”

Mu Dai quickly cut him off. “Even if you don’t believe it, show some respect. And don’t call it a ‘thing’—that’ll just piss them off.”

She pressed her palms together, stayed perfectly still on the stool, then moved her hands in a small circle from left to right, muttering, “Sorry, sorry.”

Luo Ren stared at her.

Mu Dai gave an embarrassed smile. “My Aunt Hong taught me this. She said especially when you’re in remote places and can’t find a bathroom and need to, you know, relieve yourself somewhere… you should do this first and say something respectful.”

“You believe in that?”

“Not really…”

She trailed off mid-sentence, glancing left and right. “Just pretend, okay? It’s like how during Chinese New Year you say ‘Wishing you wealth,’ or when someone’s flying off, you don’t say ‘Have a smooth trip,’ you say ‘Travel safe.’ It’s a habit.”

Luo Ren said, “I don’t believe in—”

He glanced at her. “I don’t believe in that… but I do believe it’s more like a virus. Something that distorts the mind and drives people to do cruel things. Liu Shuhai’s a carrier. My uncle was infected.”

His eyes fell to the row of question marks beneath the Luoma Lake case. “The only thing we don’t know is—who’s patient zero?”

Mu Dai hesitated, then spoke haltingly: “Last time, in Chongqing, Wan Fenghuo had someone deliver a file to my room. Besides the Luoma Lake case, Aunt Hong was also digging into another person.”

Luo Ren’s heart skipped a beat. He leaned forward instinctively. “Who?”

She wasn’t sure if telling him counted as betraying Aunt Hong… but probably not, right?

Mu Dai bit her lip. “There was a man named Zhang Guanghua, also from Luoma Lake. He lived in the same building as the Li Yaqing family. Back then, he was in his early thirties, married, with a three-year-old son.”

“In the notes on Wan Fenghuo’s files, it said the last time Zhang Guanghua was seen was at the Taiyuan bus station.”

She gestured to one of Liu Shuhai’s entries. “In 2007, Liu Shuhai had a car accident in Datong, Shanxi. Taiyuan’s in Shanxi too, right? Could Zhang Guanghua have gone from Taiyuan to Datong…”

Showing up in the same province—was that just a coincidence? Maybe she was overthinking it. After all, the first and second cases were nearly fifteen years apart.

But for Luo Ren, this was a breakthrough—a brand new lead.

Zhang Guanghua?

Back at the bar, Mu Dai tiptoed around awkwardly like she owed Aunt Hong an apology. She even walked sideways, trying to shrink into a paper-thin figure and sneak back to her room unnoticed.

Of course, Huo Zihong spotted her right away, smiling as she asked, “Mu Dai, where’d you disappear to all afternoon?”

Mu Dai stammered, and just then, Cao Yanhua leaned in from behind, dead serious: “Mu Dai was reading in a café across the river this afternoon. I saw her. Walked past her twice, and she didn’t even look up.”

Huo Zihong laughed and teased her. “When Mu Dai gets into a book, she’s like a little block of wood. Not even thunder could move her.”

Cao Yanhua winked at Mu Dai after Huo Zihong walked off. “See? Having a loyal apprentice pays off—I defend you no matter what.”

Mu Dai rolled her eyes and started upstairs, but Cao Yanhua followed with a smirk. “Mu Dai, I did see you.”

He still looked like he thought he was in the right. “For someone like me, knowing where the local precinct is—it’s just muscle memory. I was walking by and guess who I saw… you and some guy in black sitting at a super romantic noodle shop.”

Romantic? It was just a basic place. The most expensive bowl cost 18 yuan, and green onions, garlic, and chili sauce were self-serve.

“You two looked like you were having fun, playing a game with those little stickers, sticking them all over the table…”

Ha. A game? She almost wanted to spit orange juice in his face and send him back to Jiefangbei.

“And you were acting all cutesy!”

Cutesy?

Seeing her confusion, Cao Yanhua pressed his palms together, swaying his hips in a mock-kawaii pose—no small feat given how thick his waist was.

“Don’t worry, Mu Dai, I won’t tell anyone. I only saw his back, but I can tell—good personality, good looks…”

“Yiwansan!” (One-Three!)

Cao Yanhua didn’t get to finish. Mu Dai shouted so suddenly that it gave him a jolt.

Yiwansan, who was slumped over the bar, jerked his head up, startled.

“You got a spinal condition or something? Who said you could lie down? This is a job—you’re paid to work, not nap!”

Yiwansan stood up straight instantly, gripping the rag he was using to wipe glasses so tightly that it nearly tore.

She was back. Her fire was back.

It was the first time Cao Yanhua had seen her yell at Yiwansan. He went silent. After she went upstairs, he patted Yiwansan on the back. “Don’t take it personally. Women—they’re moody.”

Yiwansan kept clutching the rag. Looked like he’d be venting on Tianya tonight.

Later that night, messages from Luoma Lake started coming in. Wan Fenghuo’s local contact wasn’t just good at his job—he had a bit of tabloid journalist in him too. Lots of juicy gossip.

Turns out, Zhang Guanghua’s wife remarried a year after he vanished, taking their son with her. Now in her fifties, she often tells the neighbors, “Never marry a good-looking guy. They’re like movie stars—don’t make movie star money, but they mess around just the same.”

Apparently, Zhang was a womanizer. Even after getting married, he didn’t settle down. Had a string of flings. His wife had smashed plenty of dishes over it. But one time things got serious—some girl got pregnant. Her family had connections and pressured his boss, who got mad but wanted to keep things quiet. So he transferred Zhang to Lingbao City in Henan for six months, officially for “training”—just to cool off and reflect.

Lingbao might sound unfamiliar now, but it was once well-known. Why? Because it’s near Hangu Pass.

Hangu Pass has a lot of legends, the most famous being from the Spring and Autumn period when Laozi rode a green ox through it. The gatekeeper, Yin Xi, supposedly saw purple clouds in the east and predicted that a sage was coming. He rushed to the pass and indeed saw Laozi. After much pleading, Laozi left behind the Dao De Jing.

That’s where Zhang Guanghua was “exiled”—a place steeped in history.

Luo Ren keenly noticed the timing: not long after Zhang returned to Luoma Lake, the Li Yaqing family murders happened.

Someone once described Zhang as lazy, aimless, using his looks and slick tongue to trick women into thinking he was “deep.”

Luo Ren asked, cautiously, “Would he kill someone?”

The guy laughed. “Kill? Nah. But he did kill a dog once.”

Killed a dog?

Luo Ren’s distaste deepened. Life is life—what gives someone the right?

He asked casually, “Do you know who the women involved with him were?”

Some people are just shameless—won’t confide in their partner but will spill everything to some fleeting fling. It might be awkward to dig up this old gossip, but sometimes, even the tiniest bit of info can crack a case wide open.

The man hesitated. “Yeah, I guess. But they’re all in their fifties now. Doesn’t feel right to dig into their youthful messes. And the one who supposedly got pregnant—no one ever found out who she was.”

Luo Ren was intrigued. “Something that juicy, and no one knows?”

“It got covered up. Back then, reputation meant a lot. Maybe someone paid hush money. We can’t just walk around asking every old lady if she slept with Zhang Guanghua.”

“What about his boss back then?”

“Too late. Cancer got him two years ago. Dead.”

The guy was chatty. Luo Ren was about to hang up when he said, “But…”

Luo Ren waited, but the guy changed his mind. “Forget it. Talking about the dead like that—it’s not right.”

Luo Ren’s gaze turned sharp. “The dead? Which dead person?”

The man hemmed and hawed. Luo Ren cut him off. “Give me your account number. I’ll send money under the table. Just between us. Take a bit of it and burn some incense, send some lucky money. The dead won’t come after you.”

“It’s just a rumor, okay? Might not be true.”

“I’ll pay for rumors, too.”

“Well… people said the pregnant girl might have been Li Yaqing. The two families lived in the same building. Used to say hi, even chat sometimes. Then suddenly… nothing. After that, Zhang started avoiding the whole Li family whenever he saw them.”

“And her parents were both professors. Back then, that kind of status meant something. They had connections in local offices… Anyway, just what people said. No proof.”