Through their investigation, the police had pieced together a reasonably clear picture of Lai San’er’s background.

Lai San’er’s real name was Lai Zhengtian. He was the cousin of Phoenix Fire Bar’s owner, He Wu, and by virtue of that family connection, He Wu trusted him implicitly and kept him close.

In addition to Phoenix Fire Bar, He Wu also ran a logistics company called Hengyun. Lai San’er held a five percent stake in it.

Lai San’er idled his days away without any legitimate work. He Wu gave him money, which he turned around and lent out at predatory interest rates, while simultaneously running a pimping operation on the side.

The flesh trade was less about the money than anything else.

Lai San’er’s primary currency was the women working under him — using their services to conduct transactions and cultivate connections. Rumor had it that his regular guests included high-ranking officials from the Haizhou municipal government, though that remained nothing more than street talk, impossible to verify.

At the same time they arrested Lai San’er, the Major Crimes Unit had followed the Shangye Hotel lead and identified several other women working under him.

They were brought back to the station for questioning. Some denied everything outright. Others refused to say a word. Nothing useful came out of any of them.

Then the interrogators sat down with a woman who went by the name Hong Yun.

The moment she heard that Guan Ling was dead, her face changed.

The officers noticed immediately. They shifted their focus and pressed her hard.

Inside the interrogation room, Hong Yun sat with her hands in her hair for a long while. Finally, she drew a slow breath and looked up at the officers. “Could I get a cigarette?”

The two officers handling the interrogation exchanged a glance. One of them stood, held out a cigarette, lit it for her, and slid the ashtray across the table.

The fingers holding the cigarette trembled faintly. She lowered her head and pulled a long, deep drag. Only when the smoke reached her lungs did her hands settle.

Her voice came out hoarse. “If I talk — can you actually put Lai San’er away?”

The officer answered evenly, “As long as the evidence is solid, the police will ensure that no criminal escapes the law.”

Hong Yun let out a short, humorless laugh. “If it worked like that, would there be any bad people left in this world?” She took another drag. “No. Lai San’er isn’t even a person — he’s a dog. A miserable, rabid dog. Guan Ling is dead? He killed her. No question.”

“What makes you so certain?”

Hong Yun was quiet for a moment. Then, slowly: “When I first met Guan Ling, she was sixteen. She’d come in from the countryside — hadn’t had much schooling. She came to the city dreaming of a better life. Rotten luck brought her to someone like Lai San’er. Nine lives wouldn’t have been enough for him to play with. He sent her a few designer bags, and she was dazzled — thought she’d found someone who would lift her up, that she’d made it.”

Hong Yun smiled. She ground the cigarette out hard in the ashtray, holding back something bitter, and said flatly: “Fool.”

The interrogation room was dim.

Half of her face was swallowed by shadow. Beneath the heavy makeup, little of what she felt could be read — but her eyes were like stagnant water, carrying in them a quiet contempt for everything.

She went on. “Lai San’er got what he wanted, and that same night he brought a few of his people and they violated her. Once that was done, he forced her to take clients. The moment Guan Ling refused, he beat her. What else could she do? She was living with me, so I told her to comply. The way things are — what isn’t sold in this world? Some people sell their strength. We sell our bodies. Not much difference.”

Hong Yun spoke with a bluntness that had long since gone cold — cold to the point of numbness. Both officers pressed their lips together slightly, listening.

As police, they couldn’t avoid moments like this. Even having seen every manner of human cruelty, hearing what Guan Ling had lived through still left something tight and aching in the chest.

From the moment Guan Ling had been nothing more than a name — through the story of her life, and then the body — every step of the investigation had been adding weight to a scale, insisting: this life had mattered.

Hong Yun asked for a second cigarette.

Smoke curled around her as she moved on to what came after. The dead flatness in her voice stirred, just slightly, back to life.

“Later — about two years ago, give or take — someone new showed up around Boss He. Boss He Wu, Lai San’er’s cousin. A man named Jiang Cheng. He was capable, knew how to handle things. Boss He started handing some of his business dealings off to him. Lai San’er, trying to get on Jiang Cheng’s good side, gave him Guan Ling.”

“Guan Ling told me that Jiang Cheng was different from any man she’d known. He treated her with care — never once looked at her like she was just a woman for hire. He kept encouraging her to go back to school. He told her, ‘If you want it, it’s never too late — a person can always start over.’ Guan Ling wrote that down on her wall. Read it every day.

“…I remember one time, Guan Ling was out on the street and a client recognized her. He started harassing her. Jiang Cheng was there — he fought the man over it. Jiang Cheng clearly had some training; he broke the man’s leg. The way Guan Ling talked about him, it sounded like they’d fallen in love.”

The officer wrote down the name “Jiang Cheng” in the record and asked: “What does any of this have to do with Lai San’er?”

“Lai San’er gave Guan Ling to Jiang Cheng to build goodwill. But Jiang Cheng wanted nothing to do with that game. Then at some point, Lai San’er wrecked a deal for the Hengyun company. When Jiang Cheng found out, he slapped Lai San’er across the face in front of everyone. If Boss He hadn’t stepped in to mediate that day, I think Lai San’er would have stabbed him. Either way — those two became enemies.”

“…Not long after that, Boss He transferred Jiang Cheng somewhere out of the city. He hasn’t been back in two years. Jiang Cheng could leave just fine — Guan Ling had nowhere to go. Lai San’er had swallowed a humiliation because of Jiang Cheng and had nowhere to vent it. So he directed it all at Guan Ling.”

Hong Yun looked up, her eyes black and hollow, fixed on the officer across from her. “I’d stake anything on it — if Guan Ling is dead, Lai San’er is the one who killed her.”

Tan Shiming had been awake the entire night.

Jiang Hansheng had told him that Lai San’er’s left hand was useless — that disposing of a body alone would be nearly impossible for him, and that there was likely a second person at the scene when the killing took place.

To verify the theory, Tan Shiming had arranged for a doctor to examine Lai San’er’s hand first thing that morning, and also pulled his medical records from the city center hospital.

The left hand was indeed non-functional.

A year ago, during a brawl, someone had broken Lai San’er’s left arm with a brick. It healed well enough not to interfere with daily life — but since then, he couldn’t lift anything heavy with that hand.

The moment the results came back, Tan Shiming called Jiang Hansheng.

Jiang Hansheng’s voice was low on the other end, but clear enough. “Were there any drag abrasions on the body?”

Tan Shiming flipped through the examination report. “No.”

The conclusion was straightforward: if Lai San’er had tried to manage alone with one working hand, the only way he could have moved the body was by dragging it. But Guan Ling showed no drag abrasions — which meant the body had to have been carried by at least two people.

“Just as you suspected,” Tan Shiming said. “There was almost certainly a third party at the scene.”

Jiang Hansheng replied, “Lai San’er’s psychological defenses are strong. Don’t waste too much time trying to break his testimony — I’d suggest shifting focus to mapping his network of associates.”

“Understood.”

Before hanging up, Jiang Hansheng said: “…Zhou Jin is still resting. If possible, I’d like to request leave on her behalf from the captain.”

Tan Shiming: “She was long overdue for rest days anyway. That girl pays the least attention to her own health. Look after her.”

Jiang Hansheng glanced toward the still-sleeping Zhou Jin, and a quiet smile crossed his face. “Of course.”

Tan Shiming assembled his people and headed to Phoenix Fire Bar.

A number of men inside were affiliated with Lai San’er — they’d worked debt collection before, and now helped manage the bar.

The inquiry started smoothly enough. The officers were following up on details they’d already begun to establish, running further verification.

Then a man walked in.

He had striking, handsome features, but the smile on his face was the kind that didn’t quite belong anywhere respectable. He leaned against the bar as if settling in for a show.

“Officers, why not take them back to the station?” He lit a cigarette, unhurried and at ease. “Hard to run my business with all of you in here.”

The team presented their credentials and explained that this was a routine investigation, asking for cooperation.

The man nodded, affable. “Of course. Full cooperation.”

But from the moment he arrived, not a single person in the bar dared breathe too loudly, let alone cooperate.

Tan Shiming was informed and ordered the individuals with closest ties to Lai San’er to be taken back for further questioning.

He tucked his folder under his arm and walked to the bar, intending to deal with this man himself.

He hadn’t even spoken yet when the man recognized him first.

“The Major Crimes Unit captain handling this personally. Somebody must have done something serious.”

Tan Shiming’s brow settled into a firm line. “Who are you?”

The man extended his hand. “My name is Jiang Cheng. Captain Tan — can I buy you a drink?”

Tan Shiming declined, citing official business. But given what Hong Yun had told them the day before, Tan Shiming already understood: Jiang Cheng was no ordinary low-level operator.

He accepted the invitation to sit, and the two of them moved to the lounge area.

Tan Shiming went straight to it. “Do you know Guan Ling?”

“I do.”

“What was your relationship with her?”

“No relationship.” He raised a hand slightly, and a moment later a bar attendant appeared and set a drink in front of him.

“According to our information, the two of you were involved romantically. Are you saying you weren’t in a relationship?”

Jiang Cheng: “Depends how your department defines a relationship. If sleeping together a few times qualifies, then I’ve had far too many girlfriends.”

The men standing behind him broke into laughter at that, nudging each other with knowing looks.

Tan Shiming held Jiang Cheng’s gaze, his expression shading darker.

At that moment, Zhou Jin walked in.

She saw Jiang Cheng first. He saw her at the same moment.

The smile still lingering at the corner of his mouth deepened without warning. The sharp point of his canine tooth became more pronounced.

Zhou Jin shifted her gaze away calmly and met Tan Shiming’s eyes. At his signal, she sat down on the sofa.

Tan Shiming’s voice hardened. “Answer yes or no. Stop wasting my time.”

Jiang Cheng responded with mock gravity: “No. I have a girlfriend.”

His tone rose slightly at the end, as though the answer pleased him. His gaze drifted, slow and deliberate, and settled on Zhou Jin.