“Of course, once the investigation concludes, the forensic paperwork will require your signature, Mrs. Nie. But that isn’t the main reason we asked you here today. What we hope is for your cooperation—helping us understand Nie Han’s situation in detail so the police can solve the case as quickly as possible.”
The woman frowned tightly. “Just call me Zhang Shengnan.”
He Shu smiled, nodded, and gestured for her to sit back down on the sofa. “Earlier, we visited your husband’s company. According to them, he’s been on annual leave since last week?”
Zhang Shengnan lowered her gaze to her fingers, gave a faint “Mm,” and replied, “I suppose so.”
“What do you mean? You and Nie Han are husband and wife. He’s been on leave, hasn’t come home for days, and you weren’t worried?” Zeng Yongjia raised his brows, clearly skeptical of her explanation.
Unexpectedly, her expression shifted at his words. She lifted her eyelids, then let out a nasal laugh. “You’re not married yet, are you? Do you even have a girlfriend? Not every marriage is happy. It’s hardly unusual for couples to grow weary of each other after the wedding.” She straightened slightly. “We’ve had a lot of friction since marriage, so our relationship has soured. These days, he comes home so rarely I can count the times on one hand. Going a week or two without news is normal. I don’t reach out to him either.”
“Then when he doesn’t come home, where does he go?”
“Where did he go?” Zhang Shengnan’s smile grew colder. “Nothing more than bars, hotels, or the little nest he’s set up for whichever mistress he’s keeping outside. Do I look so idle that I’d waste time tracking his every move?”
“Did your husband have any enemies? Either in business or in his personal life?” He Shu pressed.
“Oh, plenty. Why don’t you investigate all those lovers he’s had over the years? Many of them were married. Maybe this time he got involved with another woman who already had a husband or boyfriend, and when the man found out, he killed him in a fit of rage. That explanation makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”
“You married him two years ago. Perhaps you’re aware that five years back he was accused of rape?”
Unlike Zeng Yongjia, Chang Bin—himself a married man—didn’t find her words outrageous. Marriage, after all, often meant waking up every day wanting to strangle your partner. So he simply steered the conversation elsewhere.
At the mention of that accusation, Zhang Shengnan froze for several seconds, her eyes betraying unmistakable shock. But she recovered quickly, her tone sharper and faster than before, tinged with anger. “Oh? Is that so? Well, I’m not the least bit surprised he had that kind of past. Too bad Heaven wasn’t paying attention—only now has it finally claimed him.”
“No offense meant. I’m just curious—how did you two meet?” He Shu’s face remained unreadable, though Zeng Yongjia couldn’t shake the feeling she was listening as if it were a story, and enjoying every detail.
“A blind date.” Zhang Shengnan tossed out the two words stiffly, then rose to her feet, looming over them. “Do you have anything else you want to know? If not, I’m leaving. I still have work this afternoon.”
He Shu stood as well. “That’s all for now. Thank you for your cooperation. We may contact you again later.”
The woman gave a curt, impatient nod, then pulled the door open without looking back. She swept out like a gust of wind, leaving the door half-swinging behind her.
“Neither at his workplace nor at home did we get anything substantial. Should we keep pressing the victim’s side?” Zeng Yongjia asked as the three of them left the interview room.
“We need to focus on tracking Nie Han’s movements before his death. See if any spending records could pinpoint his last known location. That might give us something,” Chang Bin suggested.
“Mm.” He Shu nodded in agreement, then pulled out her phone to check the time. “Let’s head to the cafeteria first. It’s mealtime. We’ll deal with the rest after we’ve eaten.”
The other two had no objections. So the three ambled toward the cafeteria. It was already a bit late, but fortunately there was still plenty of food left.
He Shu picked up a serving of braised beef with potatoes over rice, grabbed a bowl of soup, and looked for a seat. Only a few people remained in the hall. She chose the nearest table, sat down, and began eating heartily. Within minutes, Zeng Yongjia and Chang Bin arrived with their trays. The three sat together, exchanging only scattered remarks about the case between bites. They ate with full concentration, only noticing movement nearby when the opposite table suddenly had company—four men crowded around the rectangular table, making it look cramped. One of them, smaller in stature, with a very short buzz cut and a round face paired with little tiger teeth, looked older but still carried a boyish air. He called out in their direction: “Hey, Old Chang? I heard your team’s tangled up in a criminal case from five years ago. Sure, the case is small, but do you need my help?”
Chang Bin swallowed his mouthful of food, lips still shiny with oil, and lifted his chin in reply: “None of your damn business.” His tone was anything but polite, which wasn’t surprising—since the man’s question had been deliberately needling, not asked in good faith.
As the two traded barbs, He Shu glanced up briefly. In that single look, she spotted Ji Chen sitting beside the round-faced man with tiger teeth. He was bent over his phone, food untouched before him, brows furrowed as if he were dealing with something serious.
Gulp. She swallowed the mouthful of soup, her throat feeling uncomfortably blocked—perhaps she’d taken too big a sip, too fast.
At that moment, Zeng Yongjia leaned forward across the table, lowering his voice to explain: “Captain He, our Special Cases Unit and their Cold Case Group have always had this kind of relationship. Don’t worry. Besides, those two have a personal grudge. You met Group Leader Ji last night—right now he’s sparring with Old Chang. The one provoking him is Hou Zibo. We all call him Monkey.”
He Shu widened her eyes slightly, showing she was listening carefully.
After giving his quick rundown, Zeng Yongjia nudged Chang Bin, who was still bristling like a fighting rooster. “You two start bickering the moment you meet—aren’t you tired of it? Hurry up and finish your food. We’ve got a pile of work this afternoon.”
Grumbling curses under his breath, Chang Bin reluctantly ended the skirmish that had no winner. The three of them then devoured the rest of their meals in a rush and left without delay, their figures soon disappearing through the cafeteria doors.
Back at the other table, Hou Zibo was still chuckling. “Old Chang’s a firecracker—always ready to blow, never fails.”
“You just love provoking him,” another man said, shaking his head, baffled by Hou’s antics.
“This is our unique way of bonding. You wouldn’t understand…”
While they carried on, Ji Chen finally lifted his gaze from his phone. He had indeed been coordinating case matters, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed the faint, lingering glance directed his way.
That blue tracksuit she wore stood out far too much in this setting—impossible to ignore.
Blue tracksuit? Ji Chen frowned, glancing discreetly toward the doorway where her figure had vanished. If he remembered correctly, she’d been wearing the same outfit in the lounge that morning. Nearly a whole day without going home? Just after taking up the post—did she really have to push herself this hard? Then again, that was always her way: heedless of cold or heat, never knowing when to stop. The furrow in his brow deepened as he bit into half a bun, then turned his attention back to the phone buzzing incessantly in his hand. In the end, it had nothing to do with him.
…
At the Special Cases Unit office, several people gathered around the conference table. The room was quiet, broken only by the occasional cough.
He Shu stood at the front, quickly scanning through the reports and transcripts one last time before setting them down. “Zeng Yongjia, you’ll handle the background checks on Tang Jia and Nie Han’s wife. As for verifying the victim’s movements before his death, Old Chang, that’s your task.”
Chang Bin agreed, and so did Zeng Yongjia, who then mused aloud, shaking his head: “Tang Jia’s behavior is suspicious, but Zhang Shengnan has a clear motive. The way she stayed calm after learning her husband was dead was downright chilling. Maybe years of watching him cheat finally pushed her over the edge.”
“Just make sure we check everything thoroughly,” Chang Bin added.
He Shu nodded, then turned toward Xie Zihao, who sat with his head down, leg bouncing. “And about the victim from five years ago…”
The man looked up, impatient. “I already called her. She doesn’t want to cooperate, and I can’t force her, can I? Right now there’s no evidence linking her to Nie Han’s death. We’ll just have to keep working at it, slowly.”
“The victim’s name is…” He Shu double-checked the file. “Pan Yu. Do we know if she’s still in the city, or where she works?”
“Yes.” Xie Zihao leaned back in his chair, dragging out his answer. “Her household registration is here in the city. She’s working as a waitress at a bar on Heyuan Road.”
“That makes things easier. Brother Xie, shall we go together?” He Shu asked, sounding almost eager.
“…”
By late afternoon, close to five o’clock, a man and a woman stepped out of a silver-gray sedan and entered a bar called Soul. At this hour, most office workers hadn’t yet finished for the day, and nightlife hadn’t begun, so the place was unusually quiet.
The bar’s décor was cozy—nothing like the gaudy extravagance of typical nightclubs. There was no dance floor, only scattered tables and booths. At the front, a small stage held instruments and a standing microphone.
Two waiters were moving about with rags, giving the tables a final wipe-down. One of them noticed the newcomers and came forward with a polite greeting: “Do you need anything? I’m sorry, but our resident singer won’t start performing until six-thirty.”
Xie Zihao reached into his pocket, ready to flash his badge, but He Shu lightly touched his wrist to stop him. Instead, she stated their purpose: “Do you have an employee named Pan Yu?”
“Huh?” The young waiter, barely in his twenties, looked momentarily confused. Then he nodded and called toward the back: “Sister Pan? Sister Pan? Someone’s looking for you!”
Soon, a woman emerged from the door behind the bar, dressed in the standard uniform—black shirt, white tie—her hair neatly pinned up. “Who’s asking for me?” she said.
He Shu studied her calmly. According to police records, she was only twenty-eight then—still quite young.
Xie Zihao stepped forward, speaking quietly: “Hello, we’re from Jinghuai City Bureau’s Special Cases Unit. We contacted you this morning.”
At once, Pan Yu’s face went pale. Uneasy, she glanced back at two curious coworkers watching from nearby, then quickly strode out of the bar. The moment she was outside, she turned on them with a sharp outburst: “So what if you’re police? I already made it clear over the phone—I have nothing to say!”