The operation team at Hongtian Mall stood down.
At the same time, Bai Yang — who had gone to Guangqi Bank to retrieve the USB drive — reported back to Tan Shiming: he had already sent a backup copy of the contents to the Major Crimes Unit and was now heading back with the drive itself.
Tan Shiming stood in the bleak wind, his brow settling into a heavy furrow. He confirmed with Bai Yang: “There are videos of their transactions on it?”
“Quite a few. I think we have enough to apply for arrest warrants and bring people in directly.” Bai Yang then asked, “How about on your end? Did you catch whoever it was?”
Tan Shiming glanced over from a distance. The forensics team had arrived and was placing what remained of Zhao Ping into a body bag — a sight difficult to look at. He felt deeply unsettled, gave Bai Yang a perfunctory few words in reply, and hung up.
Zhou Jin sat in the police car with her head leaned against the window, her gaze vacant and unfocused. The red and blue lights pulsed and flashed across her pale face.
Her thoughts were tangled and disjointed. Not knowing where to even begin, her mind had gone entirely blank.
Tan Shiming got into the car as well, reached over, and pulled the blanket on her shoulders more snugly into place.
On the way back to the Major Crimes Unit, he said: “The evidence Jiang Cheng provided is highly valuable. At the moment, the fingerprints on the murder weapon alone aren’t sufficient to convict him. While we still can’t officially confirm his identity as an undercover officer, Jiang Cheng will be placed under protection as a key witness — not treated as a suspect.”
“Thank you, Mentor,” Zhou Jin said.
“There’s one more thing,” Tan Shiming said. “I’m going to arrange for you to speak with someone — a psychological counselor. Until I can confirm that you’re in a stable state of mind, you’re off field duty.”
Tan Shiming knew Zhou Jin would be displeased. She was the type who, once she had her teeth in a case, simply wouldn’t let go. Pulling her out partway through would normally earn him a fist on the table and a flushed, furious face — she wouldn’t even listen to him when he was the one speaking as her mentor.
Her reaction this time, however, was unexpectedly calm. She simply nodded. “Understood,” she said.
In the past, when Zhou Jin argued with him, it gave him headaches. Now that she wasn’t arguing, he felt even more troubled.
Tan Shiming sighed, gave her shoulder a pat, and said nothing more.
---
By the time everything had been dealt with and Zhou Jin made it home, it was deep into the night. The lights inside were still on.
Jiang Hansheng had fallen asleep on the sofa. His book had slipped to the floor, and the blanket had half-slid off. Zhou Jin came over, picked up the book, and tugged the blanket back into place over him.
Jiang Hansheng was a light sleeper, and the movement stirred him awake. Seeing it was Zhou Jin, he asked: “Did the operation go smoothly?”
His voice carried a slight roughness from having just woken up.
Zhou Jin looked at him and managed a faint smile. Then she squeezed herself onto the sofa beside him, using both arms and legs to wrap herself around him like she was hugging an enormous stuffed animal, rubbing her cheek against his.
The sofa was rather narrow. Jiang Hansheng, worried she might roll off, shifted to one side to make a little room — and Zhou Jin pressed in even closer.
“What is this about?” Jiang Hansheng asked.
“I’m exhausted,” Zhou Jin said. “I need to recharge with a handsome face.”
Jiang Hansheng felt both helpless and amused. He took hold of her arm and asked, “Are you hungry?”
She let out a weary breath that drifted against his neck — a little ticklish.
“I want instant noodles,” she said. “With an egg and a slice of cheese, and ice-cold beer to go with it.”
“Alright,” Jiang Hansheng said. “I’ll make it.”
He moved to get up. Zhou Jin tightened her hold on him. She buried her face into his chest, her voice muffled: “It was Zhao Ping.”
Jiang Hansheng was not surprised.
Before the operation, Tan Shiming had sent him the team members’ files to look over. As someone outside the Major Crimes Unit, Jiang Hansheng had been able to evaluate each member without bias.
It was he who had advised Tan Shiming on which members to summon to the office to be fed the false information — guiding the mole into making his move at Hongtian Mall.
“He’s dead,” Zhou Jin said. “He didn’t want to go to prison. When he jumped, I had already grabbed his hand — but I couldn’t hold on…”
Jiang Hansheng pressed his lips together, raised a hand, and gently stroked her hair. “That wasn’t your fault,” he said.
“If I had known him a little better, maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. We saw each other almost every day, and I never noticed anything was wrong with him…” Zhou Jin said. “I’ve been thinking — maybe it’s because of my brother’s case. It made me neglect so many things. I haven’t been caring about the friends and colleagues around me at all. And my parents — since I moved to the Major Crimes Unit, I’ve called them so much less…”
That helpless feeling in the face of loss left her restless and unsteady. She didn’t know how to find her way back to calm.
She knew, at the bottom of her heart, that there was nothing Jiang Hansheng could do about any of this either — but aside from him, she didn’t know who else she could say these things to.
Jiang Hansheng stopped offering words of comfort. Instead, he made a suggestion: “How about we head back to Wucheng in a couple of days to visit your parents? Last time we were there, they mentioned they’d brewed some bayberry wine. I’d like to try it.”
Zhou Jin heard him mention the wine — her tears were still flowing, yet her lips had already curved into the beginning of a smile. “Going home is fine,” she said. “Drinking the wine is not.”
Jiang Hansheng offered a measured, unhurried verdict: “Petty.”
Zhou Jin thought she’d misheard and looked up at him with wide, startled eyes. “Professor Jiang, you dare say bad things about me to my face now? I’m petty? What about you biting people when you’re drunk — is that not petty?”
“Did I do that?” Jiang Hansheng said.
Zhou Jin was absolutely certain: “You did.”
“How, exactly?” He lightly pinched her chin and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and then her lips. “Like this?”
Zhou Jin ran out of any will to argue. The stiffness and cold that had settled into her for so long gradually softened and warmed in his arms.
“I’m hungry,” she said.
Jiang Hansheng could see her mood had lifted a little. He stopped teasing her and rubbed her back gently. “I’ll go make the noodles,” he said.
---
The following morning, Jiang Hansheng woke early.
He got up to make breakfast. Partway through, his phone rang — it was his father, Jiang Bozhi. Not wanting to disturb Zhou Jin’s sleep, Jiang Hansheng stepped into the bathroom to take the call.