[A huge step forward]
That’s it—another crucial piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.
In the dream, the killer had mentioned that his family was forcing him into arranged dates and marriage, which was why he hoped to “reach a conclusion” with Zhou Wanxi as soon as possible.
Blind dating, of course, wasn’t a crime, but this stack of photos felt eerie in every way.
Both Zhou Daqing and Xue Meimei were very average-looking. Zhou Jinyao wasn’t exactly a heartthrob, but he had at least inherited the relatively better genes from his parents. Most men are confident in their own looks, and Xue Meimei treated her son like the “Crown Prince” of the Zhou family.
So why, when it came to a daughter-in-law, did she specifically choose women who were so plain-looking?
Five minutes later, Lu Ting’an and Gu Yingzhou left the Zhou residence.
The house wasn’t the crime scene, so there wasn’t much useful evidence. However, Lu Ting’an took the stack of girls’ photos with him, along with a few photos of Zhou Wanxi he had unearthed from the storage room—photos that shouldn’t have been in the Zhou house in the first place.
Before heading to the orchard, Gu Yingzhou called the station to request backup as soon as possible. On the way, he wanted to ask Lu Ting’an for his take on the case several times, but he only saw the younger man with his head down, flipping through two photos held between his fingertips.
The photos looked a few years old; the white borders had begun to yellow slightly. The cheongsam Zhou Wanxi was wearing was a style from two or three years ago in a darker shade—not like the pale yellow one she wore when she died.
When Lu Ting’an held a photo up against the sunlight streaming through the window to compare them, Gu Yingzhou finally couldn’t help himself.
“Were you and Zhou Wanxi close?”
Lu Ting’an narrowed one eye lazily. “Hmm? Not really.”
They shouldn’t have been close. Although the original owner loved going to the Baihui Club to hear songs, he liked men. Furthermore, when they questioned the showgirls yesterday, the looks they gave him weren’t intimate; deep down, there was fear.
Gu Yingzhou’s searching gaze slid down to Lu Ting’an’s excessively thin hands. “But you’re very invested in her case,” he remarked pointedly.
Lu Ting’an looked back, puzzled. “Aren’t you invested in her murder?”
He pointed toward Gu Yingzhou’s T-shirt from a short distance. “Officer Gu, you probably didn’t leave the station last night, did you? You haven’t even changed. Fu Yirong should have warned you—there’s woman’s glitter on your collar.”
Gu Yingzhou looked down in surprise and indeed saw a few silver sequins the size of ants near the seam of his collar. “When did this get—”
“Yesterday,” Lu Ting’an told him calmly. “To stand out, the singers sprinkle a lot of glitter and sequins on their hair before going on stage. When we went there yesterday, they had just finished; there was a lot of residue on the dressing room tables and the carpet.”
Without exaggeration, if one stayed in that room any longer, they’d probably inhale a fair amount of it into their lungs.
After a pause, Lu Ting’an added, “Officer Gu, my current status is at least that of a police officer. Don’t always hold such a skeptical attitude toward me. I, too, care about the people, okay?”
Gu Yingzhou: “…”
He didn’t respond immediately because hearing such words come out of Lu Ting’an’s mouth felt very strange.
However, he had to admit that Lu Ting’an had shown an amazing talent for investigation in just two days at the station. He was meticulous, observing useful clues that far surpassed veteran detectives like Fu Yirong. Meticulous people are often overly cautious, but Lu Ting’an managed to be bold in his hypotheses while remaining observant, never overlooking any potential suspect.
If it weren’t for the fact that they’d known each other such a short time and the kid had a colorful track record, Gu Yingzhou might have actually wanted to recruit him into Major Crimes Unit 1.
The driver was a confidential informant trained by the station, so there was no risk of their conversation leaking.
Gu Yingzhou shifted the topic naturally. “In that case, Officer Lu (Lu-sir), do you have any new discoveries?”
“Don’t call me ‘loser.'”
Lu Ting’an frowned and grumbled at the homophone. He slid closer, holding Zhou Wanxi’s photo at an angle in front of Gu Yingzhou. “Look at this. Don’t you think it’s strange that these photos were dumped in a pitch-black storage room?”
Gu Yingzhou took the photo and gave it a sniff near his nose. “No smell of mold.” He pondered for a moment. “There is, however, a scent of tobacco.”
Lu Ting’an nodded. “The storage room at Zhou Daqing’s place is damp and lacks ventilation; most of the items in there are quite moldy. Paper photos like these are easily damaged by moisture, yet the ones we found were clearly well-preserved. There’s a dark brown stain on the back—that tobacco smell comes from the person who kept them smoking and holding them to look at over a long period of time. Now look at her face on the photo; the scratches there are far more numerous than anywhere else.”
“You mean these photos were kept by Zhou Jinyao, and he’s had them all along?”
Lu Ting’an’s expression was cold. He knew Gu Yingzhou already had the answer in his heart.
The Major Crimes Unit had searched Zhou Daqing’s home for clues yesterday and hadn’t mentioned any photos, which meant that before the police arrived, everything incriminating to Zhou Jinyao had already been swept up and hidden.
Living under the same roof, it was impossible for Zhou Daqing and Xue Meimei not to have noticed their son’s abnormalities. Yet, not only did they fail to stop his twisted obsession in time, they even suppressed information after Zhou Wanxi’s death.
They might not have known for certain that their son was the killer, but looking at the bigger picture, weren’t they partly to blame for things reaching this point?
Lu Ting’an felt that as far as Zhou Wanxi’s death was concerned, this couple were accomplices!
The orchard contracted by Zhou Daqing wasn’t particularly large—roughly two acres by the look of it. It was planted with oranges and muskmelons, fruits that were currently in harvest and relatively easy to maintain.
When they got out of the car, Gu Yingzhou found a claw hammer in the trunk to serve as a weapon for Lu Ting’an, and tossed a screwdriver to the informant. The informant’s cover was that of a repairman.
“Old Lu, stay here. Detain anyone who tries to pass through.”
Old Lu was a middle-aged man in his forties who looked honest and reliable, but his eyes sparkled with a righteous light when business was at hand. “Leave it to me, Officer Gu. What does the killer look like?”
Gu Yingzhou drew his service pistol. “Between 175 and 180 centimeters.”
Old Lu nodded vigorously. “Got it!”
He stared expectantly at Gu Yingzhou, only to see the man already walking toward the orchard with alert strides.
Old Lu: “…That’s it?”
Lu Ting’an trailed a few steps behind. He leaned toward the car window to supplement the description. “He’s on the chubbier side with thinning hair. Neither handsome nor ugly. His eyes should look fairly large.”
Old Lu immediately conjured up an image of a generic face in his mind and gave Lu Ting’an a grateful look.
Gu Yingzhou hadn’t walked very fast ahead. Once Lu Ting’an caught up, he turned his head and asked, “How do you know what Zhou Jinyao looks like?”
Lu Ting’an gripped the hammer, his tone half-serious and half-evasive. “Sixth sense. I just guessed based on a combination of Zhou Daqing and Xue Meimei’s features.”
Gu Yingzhou looked straight ahead again, noncommittal.
His own sixth sense told him Lu Ting’an was lying, but now was not the time for a deep dive into that.
As long as this man was still at the station, whatever secrets he was harboring would eventually have nowhere to hide.
……
The orchard was divided into two sections by a fence. In the back was a dense grove of trees, their branches heavy with golden-yellow fruit. The front area was cluttered with tools for picking and sorting: an old, nearly scrapped motorized tricycle and several wooden two-wheeled pushcarts.
Gu Yingzhou locked his sights on one particular pushcart that had clearly been scrubbed.
“This must be the vehicle used to dispose of the body.” He pointed to the other carts. “The ones next to it are covered in lime and dust, but this one is far too clean. It’s been hosed down.”
Lu Ting’an carefully avoided the handles of the carts. When he reached the motorized tricycle, his gaze froze. “Officer Gu, there are several high-heel prints on the bed of the truck, and there’s a scrap of torn blue fabric behind the seat.”
The two exchanged a look and spoke in unison: “Jiang Caiting!”
This tricycle was the vehicle used to kidnap Jiang Caiting.
Without a second thought, Lu Ting’an charged toward the small house diagonally across from them. It was a single-story structure built of red brick and cement, likely where Zhou Daqing and Zhou Jinyao stayed while tending the orchard. The door was wooden and looked flimsy.
Lu Ting’an reached the door in a matter of seconds.
He raised his leg high, preparing to deliver a powerful kick, when a hand suddenly hooked around his waist. He was hoisted into the air, spun 180 degrees in mid-flight, and set down firmly on the ground.
Gu Yingzhou took his place and kicked the wooden door open with a heavy thud. Simultaneously, he raised his gun—safety already off—pointing it directly into the center of the room.
Unfortunately, the house was empty. Instead of a suspect, they were met by a wave of stale sweat, foot odor, and the sour stench of rotting leftovers. Lu Ting’an’s face turned green, and he retreated several steps in pure disgust.
When Gu Yingzhou saw the cluttered mess of the room—not even the shadow of a rat in sight—he let out an annoyed huff and kicked the door again. Then, he holstered his gun and glared sternly at Lu Ting’an. “Lu Ting’an, get your priorities straight. You are a member of the logistics team; you aren’t even a formal police officer yet!”
Being scolded out of the blue made Lu Ting’an stiffen, and a spark of anger flared up. ‘I came to help and I’m the one in the wrong?’
Just as he was about to snap back, Gu Yingzhou barked again, “Even a rookie detective in Major Crimes knows how dangerous it is to breach a door. No one knows what weapons a suspect might have or if they’re lying in wait. Were you planning to just barge in? What were you going to protect your life with—this hammer?”
Earlier, Gu Yingzhou hadn’t expected Lu Ting’an’s thin frame to possess such explosive power; the kid had run even faster than a veteran captain like him. Caught between chasing him and chambering a round, the fastest and safest thing he could think of was to simply haul him out of the way.
Fortunately, he had made it in time.
Lu Ting’an: “…”
He looked down at the sharp tip and short handle of the hammer, feeling a sudden, sheepish silence.
If Gu Yingzhou were scolding him because he felt Lu wasn’t “worthy” of entering a crime scene, Lu Ting’an would have given him a piece of his mind.
But behind that harsh tone was genuine concern…
After the lecture, Lu Ting’an spent half a minute reflecting. He really had been too impulsive.
Zhou Jinyao was a vicious criminal. The fact that he dared to kidnap Jiang Caiting the very day after murdering Zhou Wanxi meant he wasn’t planning on hiding, and he didn’t fear death. Someone like that wouldn’t necessarily be afraid when cornered by police; instead, he’d likely try to “take someone down with him.”
A veteran like Gu Yingzhou needed a gun for this. If the killer had been in that room, and if it had been Lu Ting’an who kicked that door…
‘Hiss…’
Lu Ting’an shivered as that lingering feeling of despair—of being “throat-slit” in his dreams—surfaced again.
He stood obediently by the door and apologized: “You’re right to scold me, Officer Gu. I lacked foresight this time. It won’t happen again.” He made a “polite gesture” toward the room. “Please, go in and see if there are any clues. Jiang Caiting—our time is running out.”
Gu Yingzhou let out a cold snort. “You’re not coming in?”
Lu Ting’an gave a polite, strained smile. “No. I’ve realized I made a very serious mistake, so I’ll punish myself by standing here and reflecting against the wall.”
Gu Yingzhou: “…”
‘Reflecting? Hah. The kid has “disgust” written all over his face.’
“Wait for me out here. Don’t wander off.” Leaving him with that, Gu Yingzhou strode into the room.
Lu Ting’an could have sworn that as the man turned, he heard him mutter under his breath: “Prissy.”
……
Luck was on their side; the first room they checked was the one Zhou Jinyao lived in. The room was almost devoid of furniture, save for a four-foot-wide iron bed covered with a floral-patterned quilt, the cover riddled with cigarette burns of varying sizes.
Near the window sat a wooden desk, cluttered with takeout bags, leftover food, and a chaotic mess of fruit sale receipts.
The small, ten-square-meter room took only a few minutes to search. They confirmed it was the killer’s room because a pair of rain boots—matching the size and style found at the body disposal site—was tucked under the bed.
Gu Yingzhou quickly left the room carrying two plastic takeout bags.
Upon stepping out, he didn’t immediately see Lu Ting’an “reflecting” by the door. Looking up, he spotted him squatting next to the motorized tricycle.
Lu Ting’an heard the steady approach of footsteps behind him. He didn’t turn around, but instead used a wooden stick to lift an object for the man behind him to see.
“Officer Gu, look at this.”
Gu Yingzhou leaned down, getting quite close before he could see what it was. “Fish guts?”
Seeing that he recognized it, Lu Ting’an quickly flicked his wrist to discard the stick. “I found this lodged in the treads of the tricycle’s tires—crushed fish guts and scales. This vehicle passed through a fishmonger’s stall.”
In most parts of Hong Kong, hygiene was strictly enforced; even in wet markets, you couldn’t just throw fish viscera onto the ground. So, where would this be?
Gu Yingzhou held up the plastic bags in his hand. “This is what Zhou Jinyao has been eating the past two days. He seems to be a big fan of this Chongqing Xiaomian [1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chongqing_noodles jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_1650476_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_1650476_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], }); place.”
“Chongqing Xiaomian?”
Lu Ting’an was momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t expected to hear about Mainland Chinese food in this era; it seemed some clever entrepreneurs had expanded their businesses early on.
Setting that aside, he pressed on: “Officer Gu, think—is there any street in Pingnan Ridge that has both fish stalls and a noodle shop? The suspect is almost certainly in that area right now.”
It took Gu Yingzhou only a second to recall a previous police report.
“Let’s go,” he said with decisive speed. “I know exactly where it is!”
The police are never short on city gossip. A few months ago, during the peak of summer, the station had received a report about two businessmen brawling in Pingnan Ridge.
Inspector Ke had sent people to investigate, only to find out that a fishmonger had been throwing fish guts onto the ground to feed stray cats and dogs even in the heat of summer. The entrails rotted quickly in the sun, making the entire street reek.
As luck would have it, not far across from the fish stall was a restaurant that had been around for years, growing from a humble noodle shop into a small eatery. The stench had affected their business, leading the owner to get into a fistfight with the fishmonger.
Since no one was injured, both parties had signed a settlement agreement, and the matter wasn’t pursued further.
Now it seemed certain that Zhou Jinyao’s hideout was on that very street!
Given the frequency with which he bought those Chongqing noodles, the restaurant owner would definitely recognize him.
At this point, Gu Yingzhou finally felt that the manhunt had taken a huge step forward.
References[+]