I didn’t wait for the next day.
The moment I closed that file that night, I had already made up my mind: I was going to ask her tonight.
I couldn’t let this drag on any longer. Once the leads in a money laundering case go cold, they are notoriously hard to pick back up. And if this lead on Wen Minghua had anything to do with Wen Ruzhou—whatever that connection might be—she owed me an explanation.
Not a confession, an explanation.
I needed to know just how much she actually knew.
The apartment she rented was in Futian District, not far from the station—a fifteen-minute ride on an e-bike. I had never been to her place before, nor had I ever asked where she lived. But when Zhao Feng was running the background check on Wen Minghua that day, he pulled up Wen Ruzhou’s household register and home address along with it.
Zhao Feng is thorough. That’s something I’ve always appreciated about him.
I stood downstairs for twenty minutes, watching the light in her window turn from bright to dark, and then switch back on again.
She was awake.
It was 1:47 AM by the time I finally saw the light in her window go out.
I took a deep breath and hit the intercom.
“Who is it?”
Her voice came through the speaker, carrying a sharp edge of alert.
“It’s me.”
Silence on the line for three seconds.
“…Captain Shen?”
“Open the door.”
Another three seconds of silence. Then came a faint click as the electronic lock released.
She lived on the twelfth floor. The apartment wasn’t large—a single bedroom and a living room, decorated quite simply. Stepping inside, I caught the faint aroma of coffee. A completely cold cup sat on the living room coffee table next to an open laptop, its screen still glowing.
She was wearing an oversized hoodie, her hair loosely tied into a ponytail that revealed her pale neck. Seeing me walk in, she froze for a moment before quickly slipping back into her usual smiling demeanor.
“Captain Shen, it’s so late—”
“I have questions.”
My tone was probably harsh. Her smile stiffened for a second, but she quickly forced it back onto her face.
“Have a seat then, I’ll pour you some water.”
“No need.” I stood in the middle of the living room without sitting. “We talk standing up.”
Her movement paused. She turned around slowly and looked at me.
“What do you want to ask?”
“Wen Minghua.”
The moment those two words left my mouth, her entire body went rigid.
That freeze lasted for only a split second—so brief it was almost imperceptible. But I saw it: her pupils contracted, and the fingers resting by her side tightened slightly before quickly relaxing again.
“Who is Wen Minghua?” her voice was flat. “I don’t know him.”
“Your uncle,” I stared into her eyes. “Your father’s younger brother.”
She said nothing.
“Your father was Wen Jianguo, who passed away when you were very young. Your uncle, Wen Minghua, later rode your mother’s coattails in business.” I enunciated every word clearly. “In 2019, he registered a shell company called ‘Zhonghui Business.’ It was deregistered in 2021. The year before it closed down, he received 8.6 million in ‘consulting fees’ from Hengyuan Real Estate.”
I paused.
“And Hengyuan Real Estate happens to be the core target of the money laundering case we are currently investigating.”
The living room fell so quiet that the ticking of the wall clock was clearly audible.
Wen Ruzhou stood rooted to the spot, completely motionless. Her expression no longer showed any trace of emotion; her customary smile had vanished entirely, replaced by a silence I couldn’t quite decipher.
“The first time you saw the name ‘Zhonghui Business,'” I lowered my voice slightly, “was in Hengyuan’s outgoing payment vouchers. Am I right?”
She didn’t deny it.
“When you saw the name Wen Minghua, you knew he was your uncle. Right?”
Still, she said nothing.
“So why didn’t you tell me?”
The question cut like a blade into her fragile composure.
Her eyelashes fluttered.
“Captain Shen,” her voice was very soft, “I can explain.”
“I’m listening.”
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the sofa and slowly sat down.
“Wen Minghua is indeed my uncle,” she kept her head down. “But my relationship with him… is very distant.”
“How distant?”
“My father passed away when I was four,” her voice remained calm. “After that, Wen Minghua left the Wen family and rarely kept in touch with us. My mother didn’t like him, so I hardly ever saw this uncle growing up. It wasn’t until I grew older that I learned he was handling… certain peripheral matters tied to my mother’s business.”
“Peripheral matters?”
“Just—” she raised her head to look at me, a trace of exhaustion in her eyes, “grey areas. Not illegal, but not clean either. My mother disliked him because she thought he was ‘low-class.’ But blood is blood, so I never completely cut ties with him.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me when you saw Zhonghui Business?”
“Because I wasn’t sure,” she closed her eyes. “I wasn’t sure if Wen Minghua was actually involved in the laundering. I wasn’t even sure if his relationship with Hengyuan was just standard business. I needed time to confirm—”
“So you chose to conceal it first?”
“Yes.” She opened her eyes, looking straight at me. “I admit it.”
I remained silent.
Silence expanded across the living room like a thin layer of ice coating the distance between us.
“Captain Shen,” she suddenly stood up and walked up to me, “I can swear that I genuinely didn’t know about the connection between Zhonghui Business and Hengyuan. It wasn’t until you had me check the payment vouchers that I realized Wen Minghua took Hengyuan’s money. My immediate reaction at the time was—”
She paused.
“Was what?”
“Was that my uncle might actually be dirty,” her voice was very faint. “Then I spent an entire day agonizing over whether I should tell you.”
“And your conclusion?”
“My conclusion was—tell you,” she looked at me, the light in her eyes exceptionally bright in the dim living room. “But not right away.”
“Why?”
“Because I hadn’t figured out what role Wen Minghua played in this,” she took a deep breath. “If he was merely used by Hengyuan and accepted illicit money, he’s just holding ‘dirty funds,’ not actively ‘laundering.’ If he was an active participant in the money laundering scheme, he’s an accomplice. The nature of the crime is completely different. I needed to investigate to give you an accurate report.”
“So you decided to investigate on your own first?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“…Yes.”
I stared at her for a long time.
Her gaze was remarkably serene—no flinching, no guilt, just an expression I couldn’t quite read. It looked like stubbornness, or perhaps an unyielding refusal to bow her head.
“Wen Ruzhou,” my voice sank, “do you know the rules of economic crime investigation?”
“I do.”
“You know them and you still investigated alone?”
“I—”
“Do you know why I won’t let you investigate alone?” I cut her off. “Because you aren’t on your own. You are a member of my team. Behind you stands the Economic Crime Investigation Division, the law, and proper procedure. You don’t have the right to make decisions on your own.”
Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, no words came out.
“Your mother is Wen Manhua,” I continued. “Your uncle Wen Minghua and Zhonghui Business are under suspicion. The moment you discovered these details, you should have reported them to me. Regardless of whether you had finished investigating, regardless of whether you were certain—you should have told me.”
“Why?”
“Because those are the rules.”
“Just because of the rules?”
She asked suddenly, her tone sounding a bit strange.
I was caught off guard for a moment.
“What else?”
She looked at me, stayed silent for three seconds, and then suddenly offered a slight smile.
It was a faint smile, carrying a subtle meaning I couldn’t quite wrap my head around.
“Captain Shen,” she said, “you’re right. It’s my fault. I should have told you right away.”
Her shift in attitude was so swift it caught me off guard.
“You—”
“But there’s one more thing I need to tell you.” She picked up that file from the coffee table—the very one I had seen in her office earlier today. “I got this from my mother today. It’s the internal organizational chart of Manhua Group.”
She handed the document to me.
“You were right, Wen Minghua is connected to Manhua Group. He is the brother-in-law of my mother’s brother—Wen Guohua. My mother dislikes him, but he has business dealings with my uncle. My uncle serves as a supervisor at a subsidiary under Manhua Group; he has no real power, but…”
“But what?”
“But he is family,” she looked at me. “It’s impossible for my mother not to know what Wen Minghua was doing.”
I took the file and flipped to the last page.
That line of handwriting was still there:
“Xiaozhou, if there are things you can’t handle, just leave them alone. You’re the only daughter I have.”
I stared at those words for a long time.
“Does your mother know you’re here?”
“No,” her voice sounded a bit raspy. “She doesn’t know I joined Economic Crimes. She still thinks I’m working at the Audit Office.”
“You’re keeping it from her?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Because I don’t know if she… is actually involved.”
Those words were like a pebble dropped into the quiet lake of my mind.
Ripples spread outward, one after another.
“Captain Shen,” she suddenly stepped closer and looked up into my eyes, “I don’t know if my mother is guilty. But I know that if she really is involved, I won’t cover for her.”
Her gaze was dead serious.
“I chose to come here because I want to know the truth. Not to protect her, nor to expose her—just to know the truth.”
I looked at her.
She stood in the center of the living room wearing that loose hoodie, her hair slightly messy, with distinct dark circles under her eyes.
Yet her eyes were intensely bright.
Bright as if something was burning inside them.
“Captain Shen,” she suddenly reached out and gently took hold of my wrist. “I know I shouldn’t have hidden this from you. But I—”
Her hand was very cold.
“—I just didn’t want you to think I was covering for anyone.”
I looked down at her hand.
Her fingers were long and slender, her knuckles well-defined. The grip on my wrist was extremely light, so light it felt like a hesitant touch.
“I won’t,” I said.
She froze slightly.
“I won’t think you’re covering for anyone,” I pulled my hand back. “But you can’t keep things from me either.”
“Okay.”
“From now on, any information related to Wen Minghua or Manhua Group must be reported to me immediately.”
“Okay.”
“Even if it’s information you’re not sure about, you tell me.”
“…Okay.”
She lowered her eyes, her eyelashes casting soft shadows across her cheeks.
Looking at her, a thought suddenly crossed my mind.
“When did you get that organizational chart?”
“This afternoon,” she said. “I didn’t go to the hospital for a checkup; I went to see my mother. She invited me to lunch, and I took this document from her study.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I didn’t mention Hengyuan,” she shook her head. “I only asked if Wen Minghua had contacted her recently.”
“What did she say?”
“She said no,” Wen Ruzhou raised her head, looking at me. “But she said something very strange.”
“What was it?”
“She said—’Xiaozhou, if there are things you can’t handle, just leave them alone.'”
I lapsed into silence for a few seconds.
“You think she has a guilty conscience?”
“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “My mother has been in business for thirty years; she never shows her feelings. I’ve never truly understood her my whole life.”
A faint trace of exhaustion laced her voice.
“Captain Shen, can I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Are you going to recuse me from this case?”
I looked at her.
Her gaze was calm, but beneath that calm lay something I couldn’t quite decipher—an underlying anxiety, mixed with a stubborn sense of anticipation.
“No,” I said.
Her eyes lit up.
“Why?”
“Because those are the rules.”
“Just because of the rules?” she countered suddenly, her tone matching the subtle nuance from earlier.
I paused, suddenly realizing what she was asking.
However, I didn’t pursue that thread of conversation.
“Starting tomorrow, you’re investigating the Wen Minghua lead with me,” I turned toward the door. “Whatever you find, report it to me immediately.”
“Captain Shen—”
“What?”
She stood her ground, watching my back, staying silent for a few seconds.
“…Nothing.”
I pulled open the door and stepped into the doorway.
“Captain Shen.”
I stopped again.
“Thank you for trusting me.”
I didn’t turn around.
“I just trust the rules.”
“I know,” her voice came from behind me, carrying a hint of a smile I couldn’t quite decipher, “but the rules don’t show up at a subordinate’s house at two in the morning to demand answers.”
My hand rested on the doorknob, pausing for a second.
Then I stepped out.
The door shut softly behind me.
In the elevator, I leaned against the wall, watching the floor numbers tick down one by one.
12, 11, 10…
My mind was entirely filled with how she looked just now.
Standing in the middle of her living room, her eyes gleaming brightly as she said, “I won’t cover for her.”
Reaching out, holding my wrist, saying, “I didn’t want you to think I was covering for anyone.”
And just now at the door, her voice laced with that light laugh, saying, “The rules don’t show up at two in the morning to demand answers.”
I suddenly felt something stir in my chest.
Very faint.
Very gentle.
Like something breaking through the soil, ready to sprout.
The elevator doors slid open.
I walked out to the entrance below. The night breeze brushed against my face, carrying the cool chill of late autumn.
I stood there for a long time, until my fingers grew stiff from the cold wind.
Then I pulled out my phone, located a contact number I had never saved before, and sent a message.
“Text me when you’re settled in.”
Sent.
Three seconds later, a reply came back.
“Will do. Captain Shen, get some rest too.”
I looked at the message and didn’t write back.
Instead, I saved the phone number.
In the name field, I typed three characters:
“Wen Ruzhou.”
After saving it, I slipped the phone back into my pocket and looked up at the sky.
The moon was bright; the clouds were sparse.
The window on the twelfth floor was still lit.
I turned around and walked away.