The prosecution asked: “Then how do you account for your fingerprints on the weapon?”
“They handed the gun to me and sent me to dispose of the bodies,” Jiang Cheng replied. “That is when my fingerprints were left on it.”
Jiang Cheng had, in fact, had the opportunity to wipe the fingerprints away. But at the time, he had lost all means of contact with the police. If those prints could draw police attention onto him, that might not be a bad thing — so he had left them as they were.
“We have no further questions.”
The hearing ultimately affirmed Jiang Cheng’s outstanding contributions to the police force during his time undercover. As for the charges of suspected involvement in the killings of Yao Weihai and Meng Junfeng — due to insufficient evidence, they were dropped.
Going forward, Jiang Cheng would be placed under protection as a key witness in the “8·17” special task force investigation.
When the hearing concluded, the handcuffs were removed from Jiang Cheng’s wrists. He flexed his stiffened joints, testing the movement.
The officer who had been responsible for interrogating him offered him a cigarette. “You’re a hero,” he said. “I apologize for the rough treatment before.”
Jiang Cheng took it, leaned in for a light, and grinned with easy nonchalance. “Don’t give it another thought.”
The two of them stood together and smoked. Whatever grievances there had been dissolved with the shared silence.
Shortly afterward, Yu Dan came to find Jiang Cheng. She told him a fresh set of clothes had been prepared for him in advance and directed him to the logistics quarters to change out of his patient’s uniform.
On the way there, Jiang Cheng asked: “Who prepared this for me?”
“Director Tan,” Yu Dan said.
Jiang Cheng had assumed it was Zhou Jin — and felt a small flicker of disappointment. Still, for Tan Shiming’s consideration, he felt genuinely grateful. “Is there any way I could see Director Tan? I owe him a great deal for testifying on my behalf today.”
Yu Dan smiled. “No rush — there’ll be plenty of time for that. Director Tan asked me to tell you: once you’ve changed, come downstairs. Someone’s waiting for you.”
Jiang Cheng was puzzled. “Who’s waiting for me?”
Yu Dan didn’t say — she just pointed him toward the room and told him to go change.
Jiang Cheng was quick about it. He emerged four or five minutes later in a loose-fitting T-shirt layered under a black jacket. His features carried that particular kind of sharp, striking handsomeness — bold and a little untamed.
In his patient’s uniform, Jiang Cheng had looked somewhat worn and haggard. Now, more of his former vitality had come back.
Yu Dan couldn’t help but brighten visibly.
“Alright, I’ll take you down.”
On their way downstairs, Yu Dan had her phone out. Jiang Cheng’s eyes were uncommonly sharp — he caught a glimpse of a game interface on her screen and made a guess: “A league match?”
Yu Dan blinked in surprise. “How did you know?”
“Doesn’t seem like the type to be hooked on gaming for fun,” Jiang Cheng said. “Had to be official business.”
Yu Dan laughed. “You guessed right. Though the Major Crimes Unit has had a lot going on lately…” She thought of Zhao Ping, and her expression shifted with a trace of sadness.
Jiang Cheng, not picking up on her mood, said: “Zhou Jin is excellent at that kind of fighting game. You should get her involved.”
“She is excellent — so excellent she compromised the fairness of the match. She’s already been banned.”
Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He let out a laugh. “That’s my student, alright.”
Yu Dan had been about to say something about Zhou Jin having learned from him — but then she thought of the complicated, awkward dynamic currently between the two of them, and the corner of her eye twitched. She let it drop.
---
On the other side of the building, the moment the hearing concluded, Jiang Hansheng stepped out of the monitoring room. Out of courtesy, he exchanged a few pleasantries with Director Liu and some of the senior police officials he had worked with on previous cases.
Director Liu tried to pull Jiang Hansheng into joining them for dinner that evening. Jiang Hansheng politely declined, explaining that he had already planned to go home and spend the evening with his parents.
Director Liu didn’t press further.
It was at this moment that Jiang Cheng also came downstairs. In the corridor, the two of them came face to face.
“…”
The instant Jiang Cheng and Jiang Hansheng’s eyes met, Yu Dan — standing nearby — felt the atmosphere in the entire hallway subtly crystallize. A cold, ice-like chill began to spread through the air.
She blinked, her throat going tight. “Right, well — I still have some official matters to attend to. I’ll be heading off…”
Yu Dan slipped away without pausing for a second, and as she went, she fired off a message to Zhou Jin.
“Where have you disappeared to?!”
Zhou Jin replied quickly. “What’s wrong? Mentor wasn’t confident in my mental state, so he arranged for me to see a counselor.”
“…Your roof is about to catch fire.”
“?”
Zhou Jin had just left the psychological counseling center and was standing at the roadside trying to flag down a taxi.
She saw Yu Dan’s message, felt a bad premonition forming in her chest, and mustered the courage to ask: “Did the hearing not go in Jiang Cheng’s favor?”
Yu Dan: “We’ll talk when you’re back at the unit.”
Zhou Jin: “Understood.”
Before she slipped away entirely, Yu Dan couldn’t resist glancing back one more time. Jiang Cheng walked straight past as though he hadn’t noticed anyone standing in his path.
She didn’t linger any longer.
In the corridor, only Jiang Hansheng and Jiang Cheng remained. Jiang Cheng, however, did not put on his usual combative front the way he typically would — no attempt at provocation, no pointed acknowledgment. He simply ignored him and walked toward the exit.
As they drew level with each other, Jiang Hansheng spoke: “Why lie?”