Can a dead man still kill?

Wang Pengzhe felt a surge of bitter frustration. He tossed his rolled cigarette into the trash bin, laced his fingers together into a steeple, and said slowly: “I’d like to speak with my student alone.”

Zhou Jin caught the gravity in his tone — deliberate, carefully considered. An involuntary tension rose in her chest.

This situation was not as straightforward as she had imagined.

Under normal circumstances, once you had captured the suspect’s face on camera or obtained his DNA, the case moved smoothly into the arrest phase.

It should have been a matter of one final push. But the prerequisite for that was that the person in question was still biologically alive.

How were they supposed to arrest a man who was already dead?

Zhou Jin called Zhao Ping and the two of them left together, clearing the conference room for the two men.

Wang Pengzhe waited until they were gone before he spoke. “Do you remember what I taught you? When one path leads nowhere — what do you do?”

Jiang Hansheng stood facing the screen, his dark eyes bright, his focus unusually intense as he turned the problem over in his mind.

He answered: “Try a different one.”

It had already been established that the killer behind this case was targeting Jiang Hansheng specifically. The murders were secondary — the killer’s primary objective was to issue a provocation, a show of force directed at Jiang Hansheng.

Whether the footage was a rare lapse in an otherwise airtight operation, or a deliberate piece of misdirection thrown out as a smokescreen, the investigation could not afford to shift its full attention onto a dead man. To keep going down that road would lead nowhere.

Wang Pengzhe thought it far more productive to change their approach and reinvestigate the case from a different angle. Once the real culprit was caught, every current impossibility would have an explanation.

Jiang Hansheng closed the footage, shut his eyes, and let his mind go blank for a time.

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was clear. “We can say this much with certainty — whoever is behind this case has some connection to Qi Yan.”

A family member? A close associate? A disciple?

It was not as though the police had never looked into Qi Yan’s background before.

Five years ago, forensic examiners had found Qi Yan’s DNA beneath the fingernails of the special unit officer Li Jingbo, which confirmed Qi Yan as a member of the “8·17” criminal organization.

After Qi Yan’s death, Yao Weihai had led a thorough investigation into Qi Yan’s social connections, hoping to follow the thread and unravel the criminal network he had belonged to.

The investigation had come to nothing.

Qi Yan was like an island completely cut off from the rest of the world — no family, no ties, no relationships. Beyond a name and a long record of crimes, the police knew nothing of his life history.

What could not be uncovered five years ago would not come easily now.

But difficult or not, they had to try.

Wang Pengzhe said: “I’ll go back to Huaiguang and look into Qi Yan’s case again. See if there are any new leads to be found.”

Jiang Hansheng nodded. “Alright.”

With those initial arrangements made, Wang Pengzhe phoned his son and asked him to book the fastest available train back to Huaiguang City.

At the end of the call came a burst of cheerful babbling — his little granddaughter, calling out for her grandfather in her soft, round-voweled voice.

Wang Pengzhe’s face instantly broke into a wide smile. The cigarette he had unconsciously drawn from his pocket went straight back in.

The grandfather and granddaughter chatted for three or four minutes before Wang Pengzhe finally hung up, his expression still warm and bright.

Jiang Hansheng asked: “What time is the train?”

Wang Pengzhe glanced at his watch. “Eight o’clock tonight.”

Jiang Hansheng said: “There’s no rush. You could leave tomorrow.”

Wang Pengzhe’s posture was upright and tidy as always, his salt-and-pepper hair set neatly with pomade, lending him an air of sharpness — but he was getting on in years, and could no longer sustain the same stamina he had in his younger days.

Wang Pengzhe, however, waved off the suggestion. “Every time I think about Qi Yan, I lose my appetite. The sooner this is resolved, the sooner I can breathe again.”

Then he turned and looked at Jiang Hansheng for a long moment, and let out a sigh he couldn’t quite suppress. “That rotten piece of filth — he ruined my finest student.”

Wang Pengzhe had spent many years in this line of work and had encountered no shortage of depraved and ruthless criminals along the way. But the particular depth of his resentment toward Qi Yan — the way his name alone could set off a torrent of contemptuous cursing — came down, at its core, to one reason: Jiang Hansheng.

The Provincial Department’s Criminal Research Division had been built by Wang Pengzhe himself, the work of nearly half a lifetime.

Members of the division were embedded in public security agencies across the country, delivering training to officers while also participating directly in frontline investigative work.

It was an endeavor of enormous significance for cultivating investigative talent and developing elite officers. For that very reason, Wang Pengzhe had been exceptionally deliberate in choosing a successor.

All those years ago, setting aside Jiang Hansheng’s age and seniority, he had made an exception and brought him up to the Provincial Department — grooming him to be the next person to carry it forward.

Without Qi Yan, that was exactly how things would have unfolded.

Jiang Hansheng looked at Wang Pengzhe. His lips pressed together slightly, and he said quietly: “I’m sorry, sir. I let you down.”

Wang Pengzhe laughed it off with an easy wave and clapped a hand to Jiang Hansheng’s shoulder. “Not making it to the Provincial Department is a bit of a shame, but you have never once let me down.”

Back in his days at the Provincial Department, Jiang Hansheng had been genuinely outstanding — the kind of person who drew attention wherever he went. Not only was his professional ability exemplary, but he was also remarkably good-looking. Word spread that Director Wang of the research division had such a student, and every month someone new would come knocking at the door hoping to play matchmaker.

It was a pity, really. Jiang Hansheng had a brilliant mind, a flawless character — exceptional in every regard — except that his temperament was rather like a cold machine. He did not seem entirely like a living person.

Now, at long last, he was showing some hint of ordinary human feeling, and the sight of it gave Wang Pengzhe a quiet, genuine sense of relief.

He knew full well who to thank for that change. It was Zhou Jin.

Just now, listening to his granddaughter babble over the phone, Wang Pengzhe had found his thoughts drifting to Jiang Hansheng’s situation.

He asked: “Are you and that Zhou girl still planning to hold a proper wedding ceremony?”

Jiang Hansheng said: “Yes, but we haven’t set a date yet. She’s been busy with work.”

Wang Pengzhe sighed again.

No matter how busy work got, if they truly wanted to do it, they would find a way. Was Jiang Hansheng genuinely oblivious, or just pretending to be?

Seeing his mentor tilt his head back with a fretful look, Jiang Hansheng asked uncertainly: “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing. I just find you thoroughly exasperating.” Wang Pengzhe muttered the words and let the matter drop, turning instead to ask: “You and that Zhou girl — how long have you been married?”

Jiang Hansheng said mildly: “Not very long.”

Wang Pengzhe gave a short sound of acknowledgment. “Right then — when do you suppose I can expect a grandstudent?”

Jiang Hansheng: “…”

He had been about to say “it’s still early,” but then he paused and reconsidered. Since he and Zhou Jin had gotten married, they had more or less not taken any precautions.

Partly because he hoped to have a child sooner rather than later. And partly because Zhou Jin had never clearly stated that she did not want to get pregnant.

Jiang Hansheng kept the smile from surfacing in his eyes and said quietly: “I’m not sure. But Zhou Jin is very fond of children.”

Wang Pengzhe couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “What are you looking so pleased about?”

Leaving the conference room, Wang Pengzhe briefed Tan Shiming on the current state of the case, and then, before departing, convened a brief meeting with the Major Crimes investigators.

At the meeting, Wang Pengzhe maintained his position that this was a copycat crime. The killer may well have had some connection to Qi Yan, but it was not Qi Yan himself — the man who had been shot dead by police all those years ago.

When the meeting concluded, Wang Pengzhe could not linger long. He had a train to catch back to Huaiguang City.

Jiang Hansheng offered to drive him to the station. Wang Pengzhe flatly refused, and said instead: “Let Officer Zhou take me — you don’t mind, do you?”

Jiang Hansheng indicated that he did, in fact, mind slightly. “Sir…”

Zhou Jin happened to be standing right beside them. Hearing Wang Pengzhe call her name, she curved her eyes in amusement and spoke up cheerfully: “He doesn’t mind at all. Director Wang, I’ll take you.”

Wang Pengzhe drew himself up with great satisfaction and looked pointedly at Jiang Hansheng. “She says you don’t mind. So do you still mind?”

Jiang Hansheng: “…”