Yao Weihai looked at him, and at last found traces of the Jiang Hansheng he had known during his time at the provincial department.

When he had first arrived at the provincial department, he had been young and full of fire — brimming with talent and sharp-edged ambition. Through keen observation and outstanding professional expertise, he had helped his mentor Wang Pengzhe crack numerous major cases.

Yao Weihai and Wang Pengzhe had graduated from the same school and had long been personal friends; over meals and in quiet moments, Wang Pengzhe would bring up Jiang Hansheng.

Wang Pengzhe had always been unable to contain his admiration for Jiang Hansheng. He had said more than once that having such an exceptional student was one of the rarest fortunes of his life.

Yet there was one point of friction between mentor and student — Wang Pengzhe disliked Jiang Hansheng’s tendency to push for results too quickly.

Once Jiang Hansheng joined the criminal research division and earned the qualification to handle cases independently, he took on everything that came his way, working as though his life depended on it.

Toward enemies, and toward himself, there was a streak of ruthless endurance buried deep in Jiang Hansheng’s nature. That streak unsettled Wang Pengzhe, for all that he was the mentor.

Wang Pengzhe had asked him once: “Everything you do — is it truly to find the truth, or is it driven by a hunger for credit?”

Jiang Hansheng considered it for a long time, then answered with complete sincerity: “I want to be seen by someone.”

Wang Pengzhe got drunk one evening and told Yao Weihai about this exchange, sighing heavily as he did: “This boy — he’d have done better to feed me some high-minded line about justice and fairness.”

That answer had disappointed him profoundly.

Wang Pengzhe recognized Jiang Hansheng’s abilities, but could not make peace with his motivations, and for a long stretch of time had kept him away from investigative work entirely.

Until the “8·17” case……

……

Yao Weihai placed both hands flat on the desk and said, “Out of concern for your safety, I would prefer you not continue your involvement in this case.”

Jiang Hansheng seemed to have anticipated exactly this from Yao Weihai. His expression remained calm, and he only asked: “Was Zhou Jin’s suspension also your doing?”

Yao Weihai nodded. “I met that young woman once, five years ago. Her brother Zhou Chuan was one of the special police officers who gave his life on that case. The fact that she later joined the Major Crimes Unit is almost certainly connected to this case — but precisely because of that, her involvement works against the operation. So……”

“If that truly is the reason, she should not have been the first one suspended.”

Jiang Hansheng’s tone was light, almost offhand — as though he were speaking of something of no consequence.

Yet something about those words settled into Yao Weihai’s chest like a thread of cold air. “……”

The office fell into an abrupt silence, the atmosphere holding stiff and unyielding for a long moment.

After a pause, it was Jiang Hansheng who spoke first: “Director Yao is heading the task force. Without a lead, I trust you would not have come back. But before the next move is made, there is someone I would ask you to pay attention to.”

“Who?”

Jiang Hansheng said: “Jiang Cheng.”

Yao Weihai’s brow twitched. “Why?”

Jiang Hansheng tilted his head slightly and studied him for a quiet two or three seconds, then asked: “Shouldn’t Director Yao first ask who he is?”

Yao Weihai: “……I reviewed the case reports before I came. He’s one of He Wu’s men.”

Jiang Hansheng nodded. “He used to be a police officer.”

Yao Weihai waited, and when nothing more followed, he asked with some surprise: “That’s all?”

Jiang Hansheng’s expression carried something that was almost a smile, but not quite: “I think that’s enough.”

Jiang Hansheng bid Yao Weihai a polite farewell and stepped out the door. The near-smile at the corner of his lips vanished entirely.

His eyes were dark as ink pooled in still water. He walked and thought at the same time.

He thought about the unresolved questions in Guan Ling’s case, and about the Guoshan Funing Street case.

A year ago, Lai Zhengtian had been beaten and had his left hand crippled, an act that had been accompanied by sexual assault — something that had dealt a devastating blow to Lai Zhengtian’s psyche.

Jiang Hansheng had gone to the Guoshan precinct to review the records.

Of the three individuals who had participated in the assault, one had a prior criminal record and had served prison time. The earliest entry on that record was from eight years ago — the man had been imprisoned for attempted rape.

Jiang Hansheng had then looked into the case file for that earlier crime. It was the sort of detail most people would overlook entirely — who had responded to the initial call — but Jiang Hansheng had spotted it immediately: at the bottom of a single thin incident report, the name of the responding officer was recorded. It read: Jiang Cheng.

As always, Jiang Hansheng did not believe the world contained that many coincidences.

Jiang Cheng had known the perpetrators from Guoshan. In other words, the retribution carried out against Lai Zhengtian had very likely been set in motion by Jiang Cheng from behind the scenes.

Guan Ling’s death had been an accident — but Jiang Cheng had seized upon it and used it, making Huang Song into a chess piece, leaving behind no trace or evidence, and sending Lai Zhengtian to prison.

Yet even without the Guan Ling incident, Jiang Cheng had long intended to use unconventional means to remove Lai Zhengtian — that stumbling block in his path.

This was all conjecture on Jiang Hansheng’s part. He had no evidence.

But if this was the truth, then Jiang Cheng’s willingness to do whatever it took had clearly crossed a line.

Black, or white —

Could he still tell the difference?

……

Zhou Jin came out of Tan Shiming’s office and walked directly into Jiang Hansheng’s neatly defined face.

His brow lifted slightly, his expression gentle — asking, without words.

She didn’t quite know how it happened, but she found herself wanting to share trivial things with him, and the words came out just as naturally: “I’ve had a real stroke of bad luck — suspended for a month.”

Jiang Hansheng said: “A suspension isn’t so bad. I went to see Director Yao, and he fired me to my face.”

“……”

Zhou Jin nearly laughed. She raised an eyebrow. “Nothing good seems to have happened to you since we got married.”

Jiang Hansheng took her hand in his and said quietly: “Getting to marry you is already the best thing.”

Professor Jiang delivered these words with a perfectly composed face — not a trace of a flush, not a flicker of a quickened heartbeat — yet the complete and utter sincerity of it made it all the more heart-stirring.

Even Zhou Jin, straightforward to a fault, was almost done in by it. A faint warmth rose in her cheeks. “Well, naturally.”

The two of them walked out of the police station together.

Zhou Jin still had Guan Ling’s case weighing on her mind. She said to Jiang Hansheng: “The police are moving to close the case and will be issuing a public statement. So the evidence Guan Ling had on Lai San’er — it was never found.”

She paused, then continued: “And that service pistol — its whereabouts are still unknown.”

Jiang Hansheng replied, as though to himself: “It’ll come in useful, sooner or later.”

……

Neon lights flickered.

Jiang Cheng stepped out of the car. The night breeze brushed past his ears. He stood outside and smoked a cigarette, and someone came up to him and said: “Brother Cheng, the boss is waiting for you.”

Jiang Cheng caught the unusual wariness in the man’s manner and smiled slightly. He tapped the cigarette between his fingers in the direction of the car and said: “Go — bring what’s in my trunk inside.”

“What’s in there?”

“A gift for Boss He.”

The man hesitated, then gave a nod and walked to the trunk. The moment he lifted the lid and looked inside, his face drained of all color.

“Brother Cheng! This is……”

Jiang Cheng moved as though he hadn’t heard, and walked calmly into the Phoenix Flame.

There was no business tonight — no irrelevant personnel present. He glanced around at his surroundings. Even the security cameras were not running.

Everyone present was lined up on either side, standing before him in solemn formation, each one looking at him in turn — with suspicion, with hatred, with expressions too layered to name……

The emotions in their eyes were turbulent, burning with an intensity that felt like it could sear straight through him.

Then, in the next instant, a cold gun barrel pressed against the small of his back. A frigid warning sounded from behind him: “Jiang Cheng. I’d advise you not to move. Hands up.”

Jiang Cheng’s brow twitched slightly. He lifted his chin and did not comply — instead turning his gaze toward the focal point of the assembled crowd.

“Brother. What’s the meaning of this?”