Jing Ping thought Xiangcheng was much colder than Yunnan. The wind cut to the bone, carrying a chill like wet snow. The weather wasn’t pleasant either, always misty and heavily overcast, lacking clarity. Unlike Yunnan, where winter days were brilliantly sunny with skies blue as lakes and clouds white as snow. There, even hearts felt lighter.
Even if you often dwelled in darkness.
Jing Ping hadn’t found an apartment yet and was staying in the station’s bachelor quarters. The conditions weren’t great, but it was clean and tidy. It was then that Jing Ping found something to appreciate about Xiangcheng—though it was cold, it was a gentle cold, and even the winter rain fell with delicate refinement. Nothing like Yunnan, which only knew the scorching sun or pouring rain. His dormitory housed several recent graduates who kept to themselves and showed him due respect as their senior. Sometimes when they ordered late-night snacks, they never forgot to share with their senior colleague.
So his first few days in Xiangcheng passed in gentle, peaceful tranquility. Jing Ping recalled how just last month he’d been chasing drug traffickers through Yunnan’s jungles, where two colleagues had fallen and several fierce criminals on the other side had gone down too. He’d been panting as he violently subdued a leader, and when he looked up while restraining the unconscious criminal, he saw the towering primitive forest and a blazing sun shining blindingly on the blood covering his head and body… Now it all felt like a distant dream.
He was thirty-one, single, no woman, no family. He’d come from Yunnan’s sea of blood and knife’s edge to this petite and graceful city.
Before he left, his superior had said: “Jing Ping, you’re a sharp knife—go to Hunan and cut off that artery carrying drugs from Yunnan to central China.”
His superior had also said: “Jing Ping, no matter what, stay alive for me.”
Dawn broke again, and Jing Ping opened his eyes—the mornings here were truly cold. He got up, throwing on just an old jacket to go to the bathroom.
He lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Back in his room, he found a text message: “Old Jing, meet at Yanjiang Boulevard across from the station.”
It was from You Mingxu.
Jing Ping held his phone, thinking: When did she start calling me “Old Jing”? I’m only five or six years older than her.
After a moment’s thought, he changed into sportswear and took out a stack of documents from his bag. He looked at them for a few seconds in silence before folding and stuffing them into his pocket, then headed out.
The sun had just risen, barely hanging above the horizon, casting soft light everywhere. After jogging for a while, Jing Ping saw a figure standing on the wooden boardwalk by the river, bending to stretch their legs.
Since they’d agreed to work together yesterday, Jing Ping naturally had some information to share. Because it was a secret investigation, Jing Ping had suggested meeting somewhere private to talk. But You Mingxu thought that was too much trouble, so Jing Ping suggested meeting in the morning. When You Mingxu wasn’t working around the clock on cases, she exercised in the mornings anyway, so she readily agreed to kill two birds with one stone.
Those legs were straight, with indescribably balanced, flowing lines. The phrase “perfect figure” popped into Jing Ping’s mind. After looking for a moment, he walked over. You Mingxu turned to see him and straightened up.
Jing Ping pulled out the documents and said, “Take a look at these first. I’ll run one more lap and come back to discuss.”
You Mingxu nodded as she took them, walked down the boardwalk slope a few steps, found a flat patch of grass, and sat down to read.
The missing key figure was named Guo Xing, thirty-three, from Qujing City in Yunnan. He’d been rotten to the core since childhood—theft, robbery, assault, bullying—in and out of jail three times. Later he went to live on Yunnan’s border, and in such a place, for someone like him, getting involved with drugs was practically inevitable. Word on the street was that he’d become an important operative in the local drug trafficking organization, and the police had been watching him for a long time.
The key wasn’t just catching this fierce operative, but using the intelligence he possessed to root out the trafficking network behind him. Two months ago, Guo Xing finally got into trouble, but not for drug trafficking. He and an accomplice had raped and murdered a woman. The victim’s story was tragic—her husband had died years ago, leaving her a widow. Her only brother was twenty, away at university in Kunming. She ran a small shop. Guo Xing and his accomplice had likely broken in at night, raped and killed her, then set fire to the house—extremely cruel methods. With solid evidence, the police immediately launched a manhunt for Guo Xing and his accomplice. But they’d vanished without a trace and hadn’t been caught.
Until recently, when Guo Xing resurfaced—in Xiangcheng. He was involved in a major deal. The police had played along, hoping to expose both regions’ trafficking organizations, so they’d only monitored from afar. But a few days later, he disappeared.
You Mingxu looked at his photo in the files. Guo Xing was of medium build, unremarkable looking, wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts that revealed tanned, muscular arms. His features were sharp, exuding brutality at first glance.
After memorizing the key information and photographing the documents on her phone, You Mingxu looked up to see a figure running back through the thin mist on the distant boardwalk, right on time.
The thirty-something narcotics officer had a solid, tall frame and moved with athletic power. He was looking at You Mingxu from afar too, his eyes as calm as the morning mist. Gone was yesterday’s rippling smile. You Mingxu held his gaze for a few seconds before looking away and standing up.
He came running over, slightly out of breath, hands on his hips, and asked, “Finished reading?”
“Yes.”
“Let me have them back.”
You Mingxu handed them over, adding, “I took photos.”
Jing Ping’s lips curved slightly as he said, “Keep them safe. Narcotics isn’t like other work—one leaked piece of information could cost a life.”
“I know.”
They walked back side by side, and You Mingxu said, “So officially, we’re investigating Guo Xing’s rape and murder case, trying to find him.”
Jing Ping nodded: “We absolutely can’t alert anyone, and we don’t mention ‘drugs’ to anyone. Once we find Guo Xing, the intelligence he has will help us if not destroy, at least severely damage the trafficking organization.”
“Good. Where do we start?”
Jing Ping glanced at her with a smile and said, “I hear your criminal investigation skills are impressive. Today we’ll go to Guo Xing’s hideout in Xiangcheng.”
There it was again—that rakish, difficult-to-handle air from yesterday.
You Mingxu just replied coolly, “Alright.”
They continued walking toward the station in silence. The smell of sweat and warmth began radiating from Jing Ping’s body. Somehow, walking side by side like this had never bothered You Mingxu before. When she was with her brothers, everyone was sweaty. But now she felt slightly uncomfortable, not wanting to be so close to him, and subtly moved away to escape his scent.
Jing Ping hadn’t noticed her small movement. The fresh morning air was invigorating after exercise. He gazed into the distance for a while, and then his eyes happened to fall on You Mingxu’s slender waist and long, straight legs. A thought crossed his mind: A woman like her couldn’t possibly be single.