Ying Songmao glanced at his watch. From the moment he received Jiang Ling’s call at 4:20 PM until now, 6:15 PM, barely two hours had passed—and yet Jiang Ling had already successfully sketched out the basic information of the suspect.
If her assumptions were accurate, finding the person shouldn’t be difficult.
Ying Songmao stood up. “Then you handle the search. I’ll head back to the bureau.”
Wei Changfeng finally felt useful and hurriedly blocked him. “Hey, Captain Ying, how can you leave now? It’s already mealtime. Why don’t you have a quick meal at our station first?”
Ying Songmao turned his gaze toward Jiang Ling.
The hair clip she had just removed was now pinned beside her ear. The row of white pearls shimmered subtly, making her thick brows and bright eyes stand out even more.
Ying Songmao had excellent eyesight and noticed an old “Y”-shaped scar at the tail of her left eyebrow. The scar was about a centimeter long and wide, pale in color—likely from her childhood.
Ying Songmao remained silent. Jiang Ling, thinking he was hesitating, spoke up: “Let’s eat first. We can act after the meal.”
“Right, it’s mealtime. We can’t let you go hungry,” Wei Changfeng added. “The dishes in our station can be simple, but Chef Hu is skilled. Everyone enjoys his cooking.”
Seeing Jiang Ling support him, Wei Changfeng brightened. He thought to himself that although this girl usually spoke little and only discussed work, when she occasionally said something, it was considerate.
Ying Songmao nodded in agreement. “Fine.”
Hearing this, Liu Haoran smiled and took a lunch box from the metal cabinet. “Xiao Jiang is right. Even an emperor wouldn’t punish his soldiers by letting them go hungry. Eat first, then work, and stay late if necessary!”
The group headed to the cafeteria, where Chef Hu had already laid out the food.
Four stainless steel trays held steamed rice, shredded potatoes, braised pork with preserved vegetables, and stir-fried pork with chili. Beside them was a stainless steel soup pot containing seaweed and egg soup.
Four dishes and a soup—ample portions, the aroma of the rice wafting through the air.
Jiang Ling, accustomed to sitting in a corner, did the same this time. She carried her aluminum lunchbox to the farthest seat and ate alone.
Li Zhenliang, Liu Haoran, and Zhou Wei, knowing her personality, did not crowd her but chose a nearby square table.
Wei Changfeng brought over two trays and helped serve Ying Songmao and Zhao Jingxin. The three of them sat at one table, eating while chatting.
Though called “chatting,” Wei Changfeng and Zhao Jingxin did most of the talking. Ying Songmao barely said a word the entire time.
Wei Changfeng, not treating Ying Songmao as an outsider, quietly asked Zhao Jingxin, “Has Captain Ying always been this quiet?”
Zhao Jingxin, Ying Songmao’s assistant and apprentice, smiled with two dimples. “Yeah. My master doesn’t like socializing. He speaks little and concisely. If he ever had to speak publicly, every word would come out one by one—it’s painful just listening.”
Wei Changfeng pointed at Jiang Ling eating alone in the corner. “See that? In this, she’s a lot like our Xiao Jiang at the station—doesn’t enjoy talking to people.”
Zhao Jingxin glanced at Jiang Ling, then at Ying Songmao, smiling. “There is some resemblance. But I noticed Officer Jiang spoke fluently earlier—she’s better than my master in that regard.”
Wei Changfeng shook his head. “No, no. Xiao Jiang only talks more about work. She normally doesn’t initiate conversations with colleagues.”
He thought a moment and added, “Though she’s better now, occasionally chatting a little.”
Ying Songmao’s ears perked up.
He knew he suffered from a bit of social anxiety, especially in crowded situations. He was known in the technical team as cold and serious, which was just a protective layer to keep others at a distance.
Meeting someone like him was rare, and he found himself paying attention.
Hearing that Jiang Ling had just graduated, around his age, she should be cheerful and carefree—so why did she also seem hesitant in social situations?
Wei Changfeng, always a bit gossipy, lowered his voice: “Xiao Jiang is an orphan, grew up in an orphanage. Getting into the police school wasn’t easy. She doesn’t like being too close to people and keeps to herself. But she’s intelligent, highly skilled, excellent in criminal investigation. When she talks about criminal psychology, she’s authoritative—she led the case on Qian Darong last time.”
The meals at Jinwu Road Police Station were good, but Ying Songmao barely tasted them.
Jiang Ling was an orphan.
He had wondered what kind of environment could nurture such an outstanding officer, only to discover she had grown up alone. Her journey must have been tough and exhausting.
He resolved that if Jiang Ling ever needed help, he would support her as much as possible.
Jiang Ling ate quickly and, within seven or eight minutes, stood up.
Seeing her rise, Li Zhenliang and the others flustered to stand as well, hurriedly finishing their meals while mumbling.
“Finished already?”
“Are we leaving now?”
“Just a few more seconds.”
This newly formed four-person team clearly followed Jiang Ling’s lead.
Wei Changfeng waved at her. “Get going with the investigation—try to find the person soon.”
Ying Songmao set down his chopsticks and said to Jiang Ling, who passed by with her lunchbox, “Call me as soon as you have results, no matter how late.”
Jiang Ling paused briefly. “Okay.”
With that, she walked out of the cafeteria without looking back, followed closely by Li Zhenliang, Liu Haoran, and Zhou Wei.
Zhao Jingxin couldn’t help but comment, “Officer Jiang is younger than me, yet so commanding.”
Ying Songmao shot him a sidelong glance. “Quiet. Commanding? Jiang Ling earns respect through ability.”
Jiang Ling had excellent hearing and naturally knew what Wei Changfeng was saying about her. In her previous life, she might have been uncomfortable with attention, but having a second chance had made her inner strength much greater—she didn’t mind.
Who cares what people say behind your back?
If Old Wei wants to tell her story, let him. Let the Technical Division know she isn’t social and keeps her distance—it’ll save explanations later. That’s a good thing.
Night fell, the city lights came on.
Four figures on bicycles flickered in the lamplight, sometimes short, sometimes long.
The small shops along the road were brightly lit, children hopping and playing on the roadside, their laughter crisp and clear like silver bells.
Li Zhenliang sighed, “This is what being a child is like.”
Liu Haoran shook his head. “Sigh, it’s a shame that someone would become a thief just to get back at a person like Qian Jianshe.”
Zhou Wei was more level-headed. “Hey, we haven’t found the person yet. Isn’t it too early to talk like that?”
His words brought the sentimental Li Zhenliang and Liu Haoran back to reason.
Right—no one knew if Jiang Ling’s psychological profile was accurate. Who could say whether a little girl, after witnessing her mother’s infidelity, developed a revenge mindset and stole a bell every month?
Li Zhenliang thought for a moment, then said firmly, “I trust Xiao Jiang. Last time she said Qian Darong had sexual offense tendencies. At first, no one believed her. Everyone thought a fifteen-year-old boy was just curious about sex—how could he turn to crime? But she was right.”
Liu Haoran and Zhou Wei exchanged glances, silently agreeing not to speak further. If Jiang Ling’s assessment proved correct this time, they’d follow her lead entirely in the future.
By the time they reached the towel factory, dusk had set in.
The factory had been performing poorly in recent years, and the workers’ spirits weren’t high. Under the streetlights, a group crowded together, playing cards, occasionally letting out strange cries.
Jiang Ling’s group didn’t disturb the gamblers and parked directly in front of a small grocery store at the factory entrance.
This shop was likely popular with workers after their shifts—affordable and convenient. As winter approached, it also sold homemade ginger syrup in a thermos, five cents a cup.
“This time it’s on me,” Jiang Ling said, buying four cups of ginger syrup.
Li Zhenliang was a little pleasantly surprised. “Xiao Jiang, you’re really getting the hang of social etiquette.”
Jiang Ling smiled but said nothing.
Last time, Liu Haoran and Li Zhenliang had treated her to sweets; now she was treating them to ginger water. It was only fair—she understood that principle.
Outside the convenience store, a small folding table was set up, with a few red plastic stools around it. Liu Haoran took the ginger water poured by the shop owner and set the cups on the table.
The four of them sat down, and as they drank the warm ginger water, their hands and feet, chilled by the night wind, started to warm up.
Zhou Wei waved to the shop owner. “Boss, I need to ask you something.”
The shop owner was a plump middle-aged man. Sitting inside was boring, and he loved chatting with neighbors. Hearing Zhou Wei, he immediately came out with a smile and, acting familiar, sat down at the table. “You folks look a bit unfamiliar. What is it you want to ask about?”
Zhou Wei knew how to get people talking. “We’re looking for someone. Not sure if you know the area well.”
The owner’s interest piqued. He dragged his stool closer. “I’ve run this store for six or seven years. I know almost every employee at the towel factory. Ask me whoever you’re looking for.”
Zhou Wei said, “I have a cousin. We haven’t been in contact for a long time. I only know she works at the towel factory and has a girl with her, about eleven or twelve years old.”
The owner asked, “What’s your cousin’s name?”
Zhou Wei looked uneasy. “Well…”
He hadn’t thought out the story yet, so he signaled Liu Haoran with his eyes.
Liu Haoran was quick-witted and skilled at making up stories. “We don’t know her name either. My aunt was poor back then and couldn’t raise all her children, so she had to give her away. Her name was probably changed. Years have passed, and my aunt misses her, so she asked us to help find her.”
Zhou Wei got inspired and continued. “We’ve been asking around for a while, and finally got a lead, so we came to you as quickly as possible. We don’t even know if she’s still working at the towel factory after all these years.”
The owner listened sympathetically. “Ah, poor thing—sent away by her own mother at such a young age. But there are about four hundred women working at the towel factory. You don’t even have a name—how do you plan to find her?”
This was Jiang Ling’s first time drinking ginger water at the convenience store. She found it refreshing and, after finishing her cup, joined in the questioning. “She’s in her thirties, very pretty, single, and raising a girl. The child is eleven or twelve, thin, short, often alone, quiet. Mother and daughter rely on each other and live in the staff housing.”
At this, the owner began to think seriously. “A very thin girl… Hmm, I think I know someone. Sometimes she comes here for candy. So thin it makes you worry, and her hands are like little chicken claws. I don’t know how her mother raises her. Poor thing.”
There really was such a person!
Zhou Wei leaned forward, eager. “What’s the little girl’s name?”
The owner thought for a moment. “I heard people call her… maybe Xiaoyue? Or maybe Xiaoxue? Oh yes, I’ve seen her mother—long hair tied up, quite pretty, speaks softly. But she’s not very good at raising kids. That little girl is as thin as a stick. Really tragic.”
Zhou Wei pressed on. “Where do they live?”
The owner pointed at four apartment blocks lit up in the night. “There. I don’t know the exact building number.”
Xiaoyue!
Finally, they found her.
A dazzling light flashed in Jiang Ling’s eyes.
Everything matched Shen Xiaomei’s files.
Xiaoyue was still living with her mother; her mother wasn’t dead, and Xiaoyue hadn’t been wandering the streets.
If they could be found and the looming tragedy prevented in time, Xiaoyue’s premature death could be averted.
Thinking this, Jiang Ling set down her patterned glass cup. “Let’s go ask in the staff housing area.”
They entered the towel factory and asked several employees living in the housing, using the same story. The information they received grew steadily.
“You’re looking for Lin Xiaoyue, right? ‘Xiao’ as in dawn, ‘Yue’ as in moon. A good name, but unlucky. Her father used to beat her when he was alive—she was always covered in bruises. After he died, she finally got a bit better, but in the past year or two, maybe because of illness, she’s getting thinner. Last night I saw her squatting alone under a streetlamp, as thin as a sheet of paper. Truly pitiful.”
“Lin Xiaoyue is well-behaved—quiet, not naughty, doesn’t talk much, keeps her head down, always alone. She doesn’t play with the other kids in the housing area; she seems to carry heavy thoughts. I heard from my sister that Lin Xiaoyue is also inactive in class, rarely raises her hand, and no one wants to be her deskmate.”
“Her mother, Wen Xiufen, works in the dyeing workshop. She works three shifts a day, with no regular schedule. In recent years, the factory’s performance has been poor; management keeps talking about restructuring and layoffs, everyone’s stressed—life is hard. Wen Xiufen came from the countryside to marry into our factory, she’s very honest.”
“The first man she dated wasn’t a good guy—drank and played cards all the time. He later died in an accident. She never found another man and has been raising Xiaoyue alone. They used to live in an old single-story house with no toilet, conditions were terrible. Last year, the factory specially gave her an apartment. I don’t know which manager helped her get it.”
Following the clues, they arrived at the door of Unit 204 in Building 3. Jiang Ling knocked.
“Who is it?”
The door opened to a mature woman yawning.
She looked like she had just climbed out of bed, wearing a thick cardigan loosely over a cotton sweater, her hair falling over her shoulders. Her face was oval, her eyes large, with dark circles underneath—clearly she hadn’t slept well.
Seeing Jiang Ling and the others lined up at the door, all with sharp, intimidating gazes, a trace of caution appeared in her eyes. She raised her hand to clutch the collar of her cardigan. “Who are you?”
Jiang Ling showed her police badge. “Police.”
The woman glanced at the badge uncertainly. “What’s this about?”
Jiang Ling asked, “Wen Xiufen?”
The woman nodded. “That’s me.”
Jiang Ling’s tone was gentle. “We’d like to ask you a few questions. I hope you’ll cooperate.”
Wen Xiufen stepped aside to let Jiang Ling in but resisted letting Li Zhenliang and the others follow. She looked at Jiang Ling cautiously. “Um… it’s all women in the house. It’s not convenient for men to come in.”
Jiang Ling signaled Li Zhenliang to show his badge as well. “We need at least two people present. Let him come in.”
The woman thought for a moment and finally nodded.
Jiang Ling entered and saw it was a small two-bedroom apartment. The living room was tiny, with doors on all four walls, barely enough space for a dining table and two chairs.
A small window on the west side had pale blue floral curtains, giving the room a slightly elegant feel.
Only one bedroom had the light on.
Jiang Ling pointed to the dark room. “Is your daughter Lin Xiaoyue at home?”
Wen Xiufen, still not fully awake, rubbed her hands and blew on them for warmth. “She’s probably asleep.”
Jiang Ling glanced at the wall clock. “Already asleep at eight?”
Wen Xiufen froze for a moment, her expression vacant, only slowly realizing what she meant. She shuffled in her slippers to the secondary bedroom, pulled the cord, and the light came on.
She looked around, then turned to Jiang Ling, her voice flat, as if it were perfectly normal for her daughter to be absent. “Xiaoyue isn’t in her room.”
Li Zhenliang frowned.
Having listened along the way, he felt a strong sympathy for Lin Xiaoyue and thought Wen Xiufen, as a mother, was negligent. His tone unconsciously carried some reproach. “It’s dark. Aren’t you worried for a little girl being outside alone?”
Hearing this, Wen Xiufen felt deeply wronged. “I have a night shift tonight, from midnight to eight in the morning. I’ll be busy in the workshop all night, not a single minute to rest. If I don’t nap during the day, I definitely won’t make it through the night. I’ve been sleeping just now—how could I have been looking after Xiaoyue?”
Jiang Ling knew how grueling three-shift work could be, with upside-down schedules and irregular hours. After a night shift, workers typically only get one day of rest before returning to the early shift at eight in the morning. Looking at Wen Xiufen’s face, it was clear she hadn’t rested properly at all.
Someone whose sleep is constantly disrupted, with no one to help, would find it very difficult to balance work, family, and child-rearing.
Jiang Ling asked, “Where does Lin Xiaoyue usually go? Do you want us to help bring her back?”
Wen Xiufen sighed. “It’s fine. Xiaoyue is sensible. She won’t run off. She’s probably just at a classmate’s house doing homework.”
Jiang Ling asked, “Are you sure?”
Wen Xiufen emphasized again how well-behaved her daughter was. “I work three shifts, so I don’t have much time to look after her. She’s very responsible—goes to school and comes home on her own, even helps me get food at the cafeteria. Teachers and classmates all say she’s sensible.”
Thinking of the information she had received, Jiang Ling said, “But even a sensible child hasn’t been taking care of herself properly. She’s too thin.”
Wen Xiufen’s face turned pale, and her eyes began to avoid her gaze. “She’s just growing, her body is slender—she grows tall but doesn’t gain weight.”
Jiang Ling shook her head. “And she isn’t very tall either.”
Wen Xiufen didn’t want to continue the topic. “What are you investigating today?”
Jiang Ling went straight to the point. “Do you know Qian Jianshe?”
Wen Xiufen stiffened, clutching her cardigan tighter. “Wh-why do you ask?”
Jiang Ling kept her voice calm, staring at her. “You know him, don’t you?”
Wen Xiufen avoided eye contact, turning her face toward the table corner. “The director of the textile factory? Who doesn’t know him.”
Jiang Ling already had her answer. “Have you had any dealings with him?”
Wen Xiufen didn’t answer, but her breathing grew heavier.
Jiang Ling didn’t press further and instead brought up the Qian Darong case. “Qian Jianshe had improper relations with multiple women and was publicly criticized by the factory. The deputy director was also reprimanded. You knew about this, right?”
“No… I didn’t know.” Wen Xiufen looked down at her shoes as if a flower had grown there.
“Qian Jianshe’s extramarital affairs and misconduct led his son to imitate him. At just fifteen, his son attempted sexual assault and was sent to the juvenile detention center. Because his son committed a crime, the investigation into Qian Jianshe came to light.”
Wen Xiufen felt cold all over, her face growing paler. “W-what does this have to do with me? I’m just an ordinary worker at the towel factory. I haven’t had any dealings with him.”
Jiang Ling fell silent.
From the previous conversation, she had gained a preliminary understanding of Wen Xiufen. She seemed honest and timid but could be stubborn and rigid about certain issues.
In other words, people like her often lack flexibility and tend to see things in black-and-white terms.
She firmly believed Lin Xiaoyue was sensible and safe even when coming home late. Pointing out flaws could provoke conflict.
She adamantly denied having a special relationship with Qian Jianshe and had a psychological defense against the police. Pressing further now would only backfire.
However, at least three things could be confirmed:
—She has had an improper relationship with Qian Jianshe, but it has been hidden and not exposed.
—Her work involves a three-shift schedule, leaving little time to care for her child.
—Lin Xiaoyue is mostly left to her own devices, and mother-daughter communication is limited.
These three points matched the earlier psychological profile.
Seeing Jiang Ling silent, Li Zhenliang felt he should speak. He pulled out several photos. “Since last November, there have been 11 cases of stolen bicycle bells in the district. We suspect Lin Xiaoyue might be involved. Please cooperate with our investigation.”
Wen Xiufen suddenly stood, her body trembling uncontrollably. “Impossible! My Xiaoyue is very well-behaved. She could never be a thief!”
Clearly, Li Zhenliang’s question had triggered her defense mechanism. She had entered a resistant state and would find it hard to communicate calmly.
Li Zhenliang tried to soothe her. “Don’t worry. Even if she committed an offense under sixteen, it’s treated educationally. We’re here to help her.”
Wen Xiufen remained agitated, eyes wide, hands tapping the table involuntarily. “Even if she doesn’t go to jail, she can’t be blamed as a thief! Xiaoyue goes to class diligently every day, does her homework carefully. When I’m not home, she helps with chores. How could she steal bicycle bells? Don’t accuse an innocent person. Impossible! Absolutely impossible!”
Just then, the door opened.
A little girl with a key hanging around her neck stepped in.
She was about 1.4 meters tall, very thin—really thin.
She wore a red pullover under a beige jacket, both clothes loose on her tiny frame, almost like she had borrowed adult clothes.
But looking closely, the clothes were new, the shoulders fit; only her extreme thinness made them look ill-fitting.
Her small oval face looked no bigger than a palm, cheeks without any flesh, making her large eyes even more striking. Her hands, as described by the grocery store owner, were like sticks, fingers thin like chicken claws.
It wasn’t the three-year period of hardship when people lacked food and clothing—how could this child have gotten so thin?
The moment Wen Xiufen saw her daughter, she immediately lowered her voice: “Xiaoyue, go inside and get some sleep.”
But Lin Xiaoyue didn’t listen. She stepped forward quickly, standing in front of her mother. “Who are you? Why are you in my house?”
Jiang Ling stared steadily at Lin Xiaoyue.
This was “Xiaoyue,” the beautiful older sister that Shen Xiaomei had always thought of.
The wandering girl who survived by stealing, who had taken in Shen Xiaomei, taught her to steal, taught her to read, and lived alongside her—this was Xiaoyue.
The Xiaoyue who had died alone at twenty from tuberculosis in a rented room.
Now, she was still a middle school student, with a house key hanging around her neck. Though small and thin, her face and hair were clean, her clothes warm—she was clearly a child loved and cared for.
Why had she ended up on the streets?
Why had Wen Xiufen died?
Countless questions swirled in Jiang Ling’s mind, but she didn’t show them. She flashed her police badge again. “We’re police officers. We’ve come to ask a few questions.”
At the word “police,” a flicker of panic crossed Lin Xiaoyue’s eyes, and her legs trembled slightly. “W-what’s going on?”
Wen Xiufen was even more flustered. She hurried to her daughter’s side and nudged her toward the room. “This is adult business. You’re just a child. Go to your room and sleep.”
Lin Xiaoyue was stubborn. She didn’t move an inch, staring steadily at Jiang Ling as she asked again, “What do you want to know?”
Li Zhenliang opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by a look from Jiang Ling.
Lin Xiaoyue was sharp; her large eyes swept across the table and fell on the photos laid out there. Her pupils contracted, and her entire body seemed frozen, an involuntary shiver running through her.
Why are the police here? Have they discovered something? Do they know I stole the bells? If Mom finds out, will she be sad? No, I absolutely cannot let Mom know!
A thousand thoughts flashed through her mind. Lin Xiaoyue pressed her lips together, forcing herself to calm down, then stepped in front of her mother. “We can talk about it tomorrow. My mom still has a night shift today.”
Meanwhile, Wen Xiufen was terrified the police would question her daughter.
She’s just a child. How could the police question her like this? Xiaoyue has never had a father and has always been more sensitive than other children. If the police hurt her self-esteem, won’t her insomnia and poor appetite get worse? No, I have to protect her. I cannot let her be wronged at such a young age!
Tears filled Wen Xiufen’s eyes as she looked pleadingly at Jiang Ling. “Wait… wait until tomorrow, please? Whatever you need to ask, can we leave it for tomorrow?”
Seeing the mother and daughter desperately protecting each other, Li Zhenliang felt something clog his throat, a deep discomfort rising inside him.
Jiang Ling stood. “Alright. We’ll leave for now.”
Both mother and daughter were on edge. Without trust, pressing the matter could cause conflict. Tonight was not the right time; it was better to hold off.
Li Zhenliang also stood, collecting the photos from the table into his briefcase. He had so much he wanted to say but couldn’t get a word out.
Seeing that the police weren’t pursuing the issue of the stolen bicycle bells, Lin Xiaoyue finally relaxed her stiff neck.
Wen Xiufen looked up at Jiang Ling, her tearful eyes full of gratitude.
Just as Jiang Ling and Li Zhenliang reached the door, a sharp, piercing voice rang out from the hallway: “Wen Xiufen, you filthy bitch, get out here! Shameless! Can’t survive without a man, huh? Wriggling that slutty ass all day trying to seduce someone?!”
Jiang Ling exchanged a glance with Li Zhenliang.
The voice belonged to Zhao Yanhong.
Why was she here?
Qian Jianshe had been disciplined at work, and as a family member, she wasn’t going to sit quietly—why was she making a scene at the towel factory?
Wen Xiufen heard the voice too.
Her face went pale. She backed up until her back hit the wall, then slid down as if her bones had disappeared. When she finally sat on the floor, she curled up like a frightened quail, holding her head, completely silent.
Lin Xiaoyue’s hands and legs trembled uncontrollably, but when she glanced at her mother, she found strength. She stepped in front of Wen Xiufen, trying with her small body to shield her.
The old-style apartment building had poor soundproofing, making the shouting in the hallway sound particularly loud.
“Everyone, come see! Wen Xiufen, you shameless old shoe!”
“She stole my old Qian’s heart; she wants to force me to die!”
“Now that Old Qian has been punished, this vixen can’t get away either. She must be fired and publicly criticized!”
Jiang Ling didn’t open the door, just watched Wen Xiufen and Lin Xiaoyue.
Wen Xiufen curled up in the corner, clutching her head, eyes blank, mumbling something under her breath, as if severely traumatized.
She was likely experiencing PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder—a long-term psychological disorder triggered by experiencing or witnessing extreme trauma.
What had Wen Xiufen gone through in the past that hearing shouting in the hallway caused such an extreme reaction?
Lin Xiaoyue seemed strong but was not much better off.
Though she didn’t hide, her legs shook constantly. She was terrified and had no idea how to respond.
Jiang Ling said to Li Zhenliang, “You stay by the door. I’ll go check.”
With that, she opened the door.
The shouting in the hallway grew even louder.
Jiang Ling sharply scolded, “What’s all this noise!”
Zhao Yanhong, followed by three men and a woman, was cursing as they walked upstairs. The woman looked harsh, and the men were strong, each holding a wooden stick—clearly up to no good.
When Zhao Yanhong spotted Jiang Ling, her voice cut off abruptly.
Old grudges and new anger surged together; Zhao Yanhong wanted nothing more than to tear apart the female officer before her.
It was her who sent Qian Darong to the juvenile detention center.
It was her who brought Qian Jianshe down.
It was also her who sided with the Liang siblings, shattering what had been a perfectly good family!
Yet, when facing Jiang Ling in person, Zhao Yanhong didn’t dare be arrogant.
Jiang Ling’s sharp, commanding presence in the interrogation room made her tremble.
Her relentless approach to handling cases afterward was even more intimidating—once she spotted an opportunity, she would strike with overwhelming force. How could Zhao Yanhong possibly dare confront a police officer like that?
Zhao Yanhong might bully Wen Xiufen recklessly when no one was watching, but in Jiang Ling’s presence, she dared not. She had to swallow all the curses and insults she wanted to unleash, forcing out a stiff, ugly smile: “O-Officer Jiang… what are you doing here?”
Jiang Ling’s face remained cold as she asked, “What’s going on here?”
Zhao Yanhong twisted the corner of her mouth but said nothing. Behind her, a sturdy rural woman shouted, “We came to settle accounts with that vixen Wen Xiufen! She’s been messing with my brother-in-law, acting indecently—I’m gonna—ugh! Why won’t you let me speak?”
Zhao Yanhong panicked and clamped a hand over her sister-in-law’s mouth, whispering, “She’s a police officer! Don’t say nonsense!”
JJiang Ling scanned the three aggressive men in front of her. “Gathering to fight? Ringleader: 3–10 years, accomplices: under 3; Provoking trouble: up to 5 years; Publicly insulting someone: up to 3 years imprisonment or detention. So, what—want to try?”
Hearing the charges from Jiang Ling’s mouth, Zhao Yanhong and her group, who had just felt morally superior, wilted. They didn’t know where to hide the sticks they were holding.
Jiang Ling turned to Liu Haoran and Zhou Wei, who had rushed upstairs: “Confiscate their weapons and take them to the station for proper education!”
Liu Haoran and Zhou Wei had gone to investigate the single-story building earlier, seeing nothing unusual, but upon hearing the commotion, they hurried over. At Jiang Ling’s command, they stepped in front of the group and shouted, “Drop your weapons! Come with us!”
Zhao Yanhong and her group had arrived loudly but left dejectedly.
The neighbors, however, continued to gossip.
“Wen Xiufen seemed so proper… never expected her to be like this in private.”
“I knew she got that apartment by cozying up to someone powerful… turns out it was Director Qian from the textile factory.”
“Director Qian? He’s already been removed due to misconduct. Tsk tsk… I heard Qian Jianshe went through over a dozen women, and Wen Xiufen was one of them.”
“How can someone like her even work in our factory?”
“Unbelievable… living in the same building, we should kick her out!”
“Yes! Tell the housing office tomorrow—we cannot let a woman like her stay here.”
…
These words slithered in like venomous snakes through the cracks under the door.
Wen Xiufen wanted to cover her ears, but even hiding her head under her arms didn’t stop the words from pouring in.
Each phrase stabbed into her heart like needles, making it hard to breathe.
She felt like a drowning person; the water hadn’t even reached her head yet, but it filled her nose, seeped into her lungs, chilling her to the bone, and leaving no way forward.
“Everyone, disperse.” At Jiang Ling’s words, the onlookers scattered.
The stairwell finally returned to calm.
Jiang Ling closed the door and walked to Lin Xiaoyue, placing a hand on her shoulder: “Don’t worry, Zhao Yanhong and the others have been taken away.”
Though Jiang Ling’s voice was soft, it carried an unmistakable sense of authority.
Lin Xiaoyue clenched her fists, her thin face cold and stern, a wave of anger roaring inside her: why do they bully people like this? Just because we’re weak, we deserve to be treated this way?
The touch on her shoulder brought her back to reality. She looked up at Jiang Ling and whispered hoarsely, “Will the police really protect us?”
Jiang Ling nodded firmly: “Protecting the people—that’s the duty of every police officer.”
It was like a beam of light piercing through the water.
Wen Xiufen felt the chill in her body ease slightly.
Her trembling subsided, and she slowly lifted her head, tearful eyes staring blankly at Jiang Ling, trembling as she asked, “Really?”
Jiang Ling crouched to meet her gaze: “Really.”
For over thirty years on the force, she had held the six words “Protect the people” firmly in her heart.
She became a police officer because she had once received help from them, and she wanted to be someone who protected others.
Wen Xiufen reached out, trembling, clutching Jiang Ling’s arm: “I… I’m not like what they said. I had no choice… please believe me. I can’t lose my job, I can’t leave. I have Xiaoyue to take care of. I want to live…”
Wen Xiufen spoke in a jumble, but Jiang Ling understood: “I believe you.”
Jiang Ling could tell she wasn’t a vain woman.
When Zhao Yanhong came to insult her, her first reaction wasn’t to argue or fight, but to cower, clearly bearing scars from past unpleasant, even cruel experiences.
Although Wen Xiufen had an improper relationship with Qian Jianshe, Jiang Ling leaned toward seeing her as a victim.
Jiang Ling’s trust gave Wen Xiufen a sense of security. She struggled to stand, straightened her clothes, and whispered to her daughter: “Xiaoyue, go back inside and sleep.”
She had much to say to the police, but it wasn’t appropriate with her daughter present.
Lin Xiaoyue, no longer as obedient as before, stood frozen, voice hoarse: “No… I’ll stay here.”
She was still nervous.
Even though the police protected the people, she was a shameful little thief—would they really protect her?
Jiang Ling understood human nature. She could see that both mother and daughter were trying to protect each other while hiding their vulnerable sides.
Wen Xiufen didn’t want her daughter to know about her improper relationship with Qian Jianshe, and Lin Xiaoyue didn’t want to submit to a police investigation in front of her mother.
Jiang Ling said gently: “You’ve all had a long day. Rest early. If you face difficulties, come to the police station.”
Recalling Shen Xiaomei’s file, Jiang Ling finally understood why Lin Xiaoyue’s life had been so tragic.
Without police intervention tonight, Wen Xiufen would have been abused by Zhao Yanhong, her body and mind scarred, her reputation ruined. The honest woman could have been fired and evicted from the towel factory, which was already struggling and planning major layoffs.
Cornered, Wen Xiufen might have even attempted suicide.
And orphaned, Lin Xiaoyue would have grown to hate society, reject community care, and end up wandering the streets.
Fortunately, Jiang Ling came tonight.
There was still time.
Jiang Ling and Li Zhenliang said their goodbyes and left.
As they stepped out of the stairwell, Li Zhenliang whispered: “We didn’t find out anything, and we’re just leaving like this?”
Jiang Ling looked up at the window of 204. The blue floral curtains glowed warm under the light, like a pond covered in green duckweed.
“Let’s wait until tomorrow.”
Tomorrow would be a new day.
…
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