Xiao Yang was alone in the department office, having pushed three chairs together to make a makeshift bed. He lay down with his arms folded across his chest and fell asleep quickly. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that a crisp knock at the door jolted him awake. Thinking another assignment had come in, he hurriedly straightened his clothes and went to answer it.
He looked up to find, to his surprise, that it was Jiang Hansheng. He was neatly dressed, not a hair out of place, yet he seemed utterly exhausted — his complexion growing ever more pale and cold.
Xiao Yang: “Professor Jiang?”
“Hello.” Jiang Hansheng extended his hand, casting his memory back with some effort. “Bai…”
Xiao Yang was a little taken aback by the gesture, but immediately reached out and clasped Jiang Hansheng’s hand in return. “Technician Bai Yang.”
Jiang Hansheng said, “I’m sorry to disturb your rest. I’d like to review the interrogation footage of Huang Song again.”
Tan Shiming had given instructions in advance that if Jiang Hansheng had any requests regarding the investigation — provided they didn’t violate regulations — the serious crimes unit was to accommodate him without question.
“We’re all in this together, Professor Jiang — no need to be so formal. Besides, you’re practically the serious crimes unit’s son-in-law.” Bai Yang teased as he ushered Jiang Hansheng inside.
Bai Yang sat down at the computer, pulled up the recording, and asked conversationally, “Why do you want to watch the interrogation footage again? Is there something that still doesn’t add up?”
Jiang Hansheng kept his thoughts to himself on that.
During the case briefing in the conference room, Jiang Hansheng had already sensed something unusual — there was a degree of inconsistency in the way Huang Song had described the sequence of the murder and the disposal of the body.
In group crimes involving two or more perpetrators, it was typically the person with greater physical dominance, or stronger compulsion to control, who occupied the leading role, while the others fell into a subordinate position.
It was plainly evident that Lai Zhengtian surpassed Huang Song in every dimension — age, build, temperament, and social experience — while Huang Song at the time was still just a high school student. From an analysis of Huang Song’s early history, his relationship with Lai Zhengtian had been one of complete and unquestioning submission.
Yet in the actual execution of the crime, while the primary perpetrator was inclined to flee as quickly as possible, it was the accomplice who first regained his composure, proposed a plan to dispose of the body, and moved to conceal the crime.
A textbook case of character in direct conflict with criminal behaviour.
Of course, in various types of cases, it was not unheard of for this kind of role reversal to occur — born from the accomplice’s deep admiration and long-cultivated deference to the primary offender, a powerful protective impulse could drive the subordinate to take charge of the crime scene and voluntarily shoulder responsibility.
But if Huang Song had truly wanted to protect Lai Zhengtian, why would he have given up his crimes so readily and completely during interrogation?
---
The interrogation footage of Huang Song played on the screen. After watching it through once, Jiang Hansheng asked Bai Yang to replay it at three times the speed.
---
“I heard he violated regulations and was dismissed from the force. After that, he went into business with Boss He.”
“Into what business? Gangsters talking themselves up — do you take me for a three-year-old?… And he was a cop, no less. Every trade’s got its filth.”
On the screen, Huang Song raised his head and glanced at the interrogator.
“What are you looking at? Keep talking!”
Huang Song quickly hunched back over, curling in on himself as though in self-defence.
---
Jiang Hansheng gestured for Bai Yang to pause, then replayed that same passage — once, and then once more.
Bai Yang was somewhat puzzled. He leaned sideways and looked toward Jiang Hansheng. He was lean and upright in his bearing, refined in appearance, and seemed at first glance like someone easy to talk to — yet in his silence, one could sense a certain cold, cutting sharpness beneath the surface.
Then suddenly Jiang Hansheng asked, “Do you see it?”
Bai Yang blinked. “See what?”
Jiang Hansheng tapped the screen, his eyes dark and still. “In your view, what is Huang Song’s state of mind right now?”
Bai Yang, like a student unexpectedly called upon, thought hard before answering.
He watched Huang Song, after being snapped at, curl himself back into his seat like a shrimp retreating into its shell. “He’s afraid of the police?” Bai Yang ventured. “That’s not unusual. Even if he runs with a rough crowd and is more streetwise than most kids his age, he’s still just a kid.”
“Quite the opposite.” Jiang Hansheng said. “He’s not afraid.”
At the moment the interrogator insulted Jiang Cheng as “filth,” Huang Song’s whole body had gone rigid, and his gaze had snapped directly to the officer — lasting no more than a second or two, but that was the most honest and instinctive reaction his subconscious could produce: fierce, white-hot anger.
Jiang Hansheng said, “Could you help me pull up Huang Song’s case history and family background?”
“Oh, that’s easy — we did a preliminary check before the interrogation.” Bai Yang said. “Huang Song’s prior record is mostly brawling and fights, nothing too serious. His family background is fairly straightforward: single-parent household, lives with his mother. But about six months ago, his mother fell ill — she was diagnosed with lung cancer. Her condition has been worsening steadily. She should still be hospitalised at the city’s People’s Hospital.”
Bai Yang let out a slow, quiet sigh. “No one’s notified his mother yet about any of this. For a son to end up this way — it’s hard on her.”
The light from the monitor fell across Jiang Hansheng’s dark eyes. He sat quietly for a moment, then said to Bai Yang: “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” Bai Yang grinned, showing a flash of white teeth.
---
Before leaving, Jiang Hansheng stopped by the dormitory to look in on Zhou Jin.
She was still asleep. She’d have to follow up on Guan Ling’s case during the day — taking Huang Song to identify the crime scene — and by the looks of it would be spinning like a top all day long without a moment’s rest.
Jiang Hansheng drew her blanket up around her, then bent down to press a kiss to Zhou Jin’s forehead.
There were some things he didn’t want her to know about yet, not until they’d been confirmed.
He left the serious crimes unit alone, went home first to bathe and change, and once he’d restored himself somewhat, drove to the Guoshan police substation to ask once more, in careful detail, about the case on Funing Street from a year ago.
When Jiang Hansheng emerged from the Guoshan substation, dark clouds had already crept across half the sky from the far edge of the horizon. The damp wind was cool, pushing into his shirt and trousers.
Rain again.
Jiang Hansheng stopped along the way at a flower shop, picked up a bouquet, then drove to the People’s Hospital.
He inquired about the inpatient ward. As he waited for the elevator, the sound of rain outside was already gradually growing louder.