Xiao Feng sat beneath a tree at the entrance, speaking with a young officer. When Shi Ting walked over, she immediately rose from her stool, gazing at him with a hint of wariness.

Most people’s first impression of Shi Ting was one of awe. His gaze was sharp and penetrating, as though it could see straight through a person, and a few seconds of eye contact with him was enough to make even an innocent person feel inexplicably guilty.

“You are Xiao Feng?” Shi Ting made an effort to soften his tone.

Xiao Feng nodded, and — perhaps finding Shi Ting’s appearance agreeable — stole a couple of glances at him.

There were over two hundred workers in the factory, with more than thirty being male. Not one of them could compare to the man standing before her.

“When did you discover that Fan Dabao had died in the guardhouse?”

“Half past six this morning.” Xiao Feng swallowed. “I had just arrived at the factory entrance when I suddenly had a stomach ache, so I went to ask Fan Dabao for some paper to use the toilet.”

“You were well acquainted with Fan Dabao?”

Xiao Feng’s gaze shifted noticeably. “No — not really.”

“Yet Factory Director Qian said the two of you were very close.” Shi Ting fixed her with an unblinking stare.

Xiao Feng’s face flushed crimson, a flash of alarm crossing her features, though she still denied it. “We were barely nodding acquaintances. Factory Director Qian must be misremembering.”

Shi Ting regarded her steadily. “Fan Dabao has been murdered. The killer was very likely someone known to him. If you do not tell the truth, I will have no choice but to bring you back to the Military Police Bureau for questioning.”

At the mention of being taken to the Military Police Bureau, Xiao Feng stepped back in fright. “I didn’t kill anyone — why would you arrest me?”

“Because you are lying. Providing a false statement is giving false testimony, and false testimony that leads an investigation astray is itself an offense punishable by imprisonment.”

Xiao Feng clearly had little knowledge of the law. Shi Ting’s words struck her hard, and she immediately broke into a tearful expression. “Officer, I didn’t kill anyone — truly, I didn’t.”

“So long as you tell the truth, you will not go to prison.”

“All right, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you everything.” Xiao Feng lowered her head. “But please don’t tell anyone else. If my man finds out, he’ll have my skin.”

Xiao Feng let out a sigh before speaking slowly. “Fan Dabao and I used to work in the same workshop. He looked after me well, but by then he already had a wife and child, so nothing ever came of it between us. Later, I found the man I’m with now, but he somehow heard about me and Fan Dabao, and began to grow suspicious. If I came to work early or came home late from overtime, he’d interrogate me — accuse me of sneaking off to see Fan Dabao. The moment I said anything to defend myself, he’d hit me. It started with a few slaps, but after he’d been drinking it escalated — he’d beat me black and blue on a regular basis.”

Xiao Feng spoke as she pushed up her sleeve, revealing a swath of livid bruising. “This is from the day before yesterday. I had kept to my regular hours, and he still accused me of meeting Fan Dabao in secret during working hours.”

Bai Jin clenched his jaw. “Hitting a woman — what kind of man is that? Disgusting.”

Xiao Feng wiped her tears. “Fan Dabao found out about it later. Feeling partly responsible, he started coming to comfort me and would often bring me little things, always checking in on how I was doing. Compared to my own man, he was incomparably better. One thing led to another, and our old feelings rekindled — we came back together.”

“Does your man know about this?”

“Whether he knows or not, what does it matter — he was already accusing me of something false, so I may as well have let it become true. At least the beatings I’ve taken over it mean something.”

“Where were you at eleven o’clock last night?”

“At home putting my child to sleep.”

“How old is your child?”

“Two.”

“And your man?”

“When the child and I settled down for the night, he was still in the other room drinking. After that I fell asleep.”

“So you cannot confirm whether or not he was at home around eleven o’clock last night?”

Xiao Feng hesitated for a moment, then quickly grew tense. “Officer, my man may be despicable, but he wouldn’t commit murder. If he’d wanted to kill Fan Dabao, he wouldn’t have waited until now.”

“Don’t be alarmed — this is only a routine inquiry,” Bai Jin said from beside her in a reassuring tone. “If your man has done nothing wrong, we won’t wrong him.”

“He wouldn’t do it — he’s a coward, only capable of throwing his weight around with women. If he’d had the guts, he’d have gone after Fan Dabao long ago. But Fan Dabao and I have been together all this time, and he’s never once gone looking for trouble with him.”

“Do you know who Fan Dabao was closest to here?”

Xiao Feng thought for a moment. “He used to work in the dyeing workshop — he was almost promoted to supervisor before his illness forced him to give up the heavy work and move to the guardhouse. But even after leaving the workshop, he stayed close with a few of the men from there.”

“What are their names?”

“Er Tuzi, Gou Sheng, Da Huoya, and one called Sanjiaoyan.”

Bai Jin frowned. “What kind of names are those?”

Xiao Feng looked somewhat embarrassed herself. “Those aren’t their real names — people gave each other nicknames, and after using them long enough, the real names were forgotten.”

“Did Fan Dabao have a nickname?”

“Just Dabao.”

With Xiao Feng’s statement recorded, Bai Jin let her go in to start her shift.

Shi Ting glanced at his watch. “Let’s go and look at Fan Dabao’s home. Have Factory Director Qian send someone to show us the way.”

“Understood.”

Factory Director Qian’s secretary, surnamed Li, was dressed in a style remarkably similar to his employer’s — clearly a case of prolonged influence. He looked like a smaller-scale version of Factory Director Qian in every respect.

Secretary Li led Shi Ting and Bai Jin into the shantytown — a dense, uneven sprawl of improvised board-and-timber dwellings that looked more like a patchwork of lean-tos than proper housing. Over time, the name “shantytown” had stuck.

The residents here were a mix of a few original locals and, mostly, workers from the textile mill and their families.

Fan Dabao’s home was built in the same makeshift fashion as the rest — poorly constructed, letting in the cold in winter and the rain in summer.

Shi Ting had barely entered the courtyard when he saw a plainly dressed woman sitting there shelling corn. Crouched beside her, lending a hand, was a boy of about ten.

At the sight of visitors, the woman looked up in confusion. “Can I — can I help you?”

Bai Jin showed his identification. “We’re from the Military Police Bureau.”

“The Military Police Bureau?” The boy’s eyes lit up. He immediately dropped the corn and ran over, staring up at the two men with open admiration. “Are you both officers from the Military Police Bureau?”

“That’s right.” Bai Jin nodded, and for some reason felt a pang of sadness. The child still had no idea that his father was dead.

“When I grow up, I want to join the Military Police Bureau and be an officer who fights evil and upholds justice. Do you think I could do it?”

Bai Jin ruffled the boy’s hair. “You can. Just eat well, train hard, and grow up strong.”

The boy, encouraged, was overjoyed — his eyes bright as morning stars.

“Sister-in-law, may we take a look inside?”

“Yes.” The woman rose, wiped her hands on her apron, then fished out a small coin and pressed it into the boy’s hand. “Xiaokun, go buy some soy sauce.”

The boy called Xiaokun lingered reluctantly, eyeing the two uniformed men, but obediently took the coin and went off for the soy sauce.

The woman pushed the door open, looking slightly flustered as she asked: “Officers, has my husband gotten himself into trouble?”

Shi Ting looked around the modest room and did not answer immediately. “We’d like to have a look around first.”

“It’s only temporary housing — cramped and messy. Please don’t mind the state of it.” The woman hurriedly gathered up odds and ends scattered across the room.

“Do you have a house elsewhere in the city?”

“We do, but we haven’t lived there in ten years. It’s been rented out ever since my husband started working at the textile factory, and we’ve been here.”

“Yesterday was payday at the textile mill?”

“Yes.”

“Did Fan Dabao not bring his wages home?”

“He only comes back at midday on Sundays. He drops off his dirty laundry, picks up clean clothes, and goes back to the factory — usually only one afternoon.”

Bai Jin noted: “Today is Thursday. Fan Dabao wouldn’t normally come home.”

“If he didn’t bring his wages back, where would he keep them?”

The woman was somewhat guarded, but after looking at their badges and thinking it over, she answered. “There’s a loose floor tile in the guardhouse. He dug a hollow underneath it, just large enough to fit an envelope.”

“Aside from you, does anyone else know about this?”

“He wasn’t foolish enough to tell anyone — that would just be inviting someone to steal from him.”

Shi Ting recalled that there had been no signs of tiles having been disturbed at the scene. Fan Dabao’s wages were likely still hidden under that tile. The killer had ransacked the place and come away with nothing beyond a watch.

“Has Fan Dabao ever had any disputes or conflicts with anyone?”

The woman shook her head. “He was on the timid side. At most he might have exchanged a few sharp words with someone, but actual enemies? That seems unlikely — at least, he never mentioned anything like that to me.”

“There’s a woman at the factory named Xiao Feng. Do you know her?”

“No.” The woman’s expression was plainly blank. It was clear she had genuinely never heard the name. Fan Dabao had kept his relationship with Xiao Feng completely concealed from his wife.

The thought of it made the woman seem all the more pitiable.

“Where were you at around eleven o’clock last night?”

The woman did not hesitate. “By eleven I was long since asleep. My son and I are usually lying down by eight.”

“Officer, you’ve asked me so many things — has Dabao done something wrong?” the woman pressed anxiously. “Did he hit someone, or was it something else? Dabao may be timid, but he’s no hardened criminal. Officers, please look into this thoroughly.”

Shi Ting looked at the anxious woman before him and knew it was time to tell her the truth.

He had refrained from saying anything until now in order to keep her emotions calm and her mind clear — only that way could she provide reliable information.

“Fan Dabao was killed at around eleven o’clock last night. The Military Police Bureau is currently investigating.”

“Kil — killed?” The woman’s eyes went wide.

“We will also need you to come and identify the body.”

At the words “identify the body,” the woman stumbled and nearly fell, then collapsed to the ground and began to wail.

“Mother, what’s happened?” Xiaokun came running in clutching a bottle of soy sauce.

The woman’s cries did not stop. For her, Fan Dabao had been the pillar of the family — with him gone, half the household had crumbled.

Xiaokun set down the soy sauce and bent to help his mother up. As he lowered his head, Shi Ting caught sight of something sliding out from beneath the boy’s collar.

—