Jiang Hansheng took Zhou Jin to the hospital to have the burn on her arm treated. Zhou Jin’s arm was wrapped in a layer of white bandaging; Jiang Hansheng’s palm was bandaged the same way.

Zhou Jin sat down on the long bench in the hospital corridor, side by side with Jiang Hansheng. She gave him a light nudge with her elbow.

Jiang Hansheng looked toward her, waiting attentively for her to speak. When nothing came, two or three seconds passed — and then they both smiled at each other.

Jiang Hansheng was a man of subdued emotions who rarely smiled, and when he did, his smiles were usually faint and restrained. Not like now: the slight upward tilt of his eyes carried a deep, full warmth — something almost dangerously appealing.

Zhou Jin pressed her forehead against his shoulder and sighed. “The two of us have certainly been through it together at this point.”

Jiang Hansheng wanted very much to clarify their relationship properly as husband and wife, but seeing that Zhou Jin had simply said it as an offhand remark, he let it go. His eyes soft with deep warmth, he reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair back from Zhou Jin’s temple.

Zhou Jin exhaled easily. “It’s probably going to be very hard to find a breakthrough through Qi Zhen now. Interrogation work dreads encountering people like that — people who would rather die than say one extra word.”

Jiang Hansheng said: “At the very least, Qi Yan is no longer a vague and indistinct figure. Knowing his history means finding his weaknesses. He’ll be easier to deal with from here on.”

Zhou Jin thought of the criminal profile report Jiang Hansheng had produced back then on the perpetrator of the Huaiguang serial murder case. Her eyes lit up as she said: “When you think about it like that, the profile report you wrote was remarkably accurate. You’re far too clever — how on earth are you this capable?”

Jiang Hansheng was momentarily stunned.

Zhou Jin had that ability. When she spoke to you, she looked you directly in the eyes, and you felt as though you had become the center of her entire world. Her gaze was trained on you, following you — always brimming with sincere admiration, sincere reverence, sincere expression of feeling…

He longed for Zhou Jin to look at him like that, and he hoped most of all that she would never, ever look away from him.

Jiang Hansheng put one arm around her waist, and the two of them leaned against each other.

Zhou Jin, puzzled by his inexplicable gesture, asked: “What’s wrong? Is something hurting somewhere?”

Jiang Hansheng closed his eyes gently. “Zhou Jin, let’s just sit here for a little while — all right?”

Zhou Jin put her arm around his waist as well. “All right.”

This trip to Huaiguang had resulted in a significant breakthrough. It could at least be confirmed now that Qi Yan had once had a twin older brother.

Although Yu Liang had mentioned that Qi Yan’s brother had died young, Jiang Hansheng had reason to believe that he had not — that he had at least survived until five years ago.

In that abandoned warehouse, the person Jiang Hansheng had shot and killed with his own hand had been Qi Yan’s twin brother.

In the Huaiguang serial murders of years past, Qi Yan had killed women as a way of compensating for the loss of his mother and filling the void within himself. The serial murders now occurring across Ningyuan, Jingang, and Haizhou, however, were about avenging his brother — a direct provocation and demonstration of force aimed at Jiang Hansheng.

Zhou Jin needed to go back and file her report; Tan Shiming had also asked her to return quickly, as the Major Crimes Unit had uncovered a new lead and needed her to come back and follow up.

Without lingering any further, Jiang Hansheng and Zhou Jin booked the earliest available flight back to Haizhou.

They arrived home in the early hours of the morning. Zhou Jin fell face-first onto the sofa and was asleep within minutes.

Jiang Hansheng came out of the bathroom after washing up, saw she had fallen fast asleep, smiled softly, walked over to remove her shoes, and carried Zhou Jin to bed.

But there was no time for Jiang Hansheng to sleep. He had to teach at the university in the morning and needed to go over his slides once more. There were also several research projects from the criminology lab — his students had asked him to look over them and offer guidance, and he owed them replies.

By the time he had finished responding to his emails, it was already close to dawn. Jiang Hansheng rested his head on the desk and slept for half an hour.

When he woke, he had a splitting headache.

He pressed his hand to his forehead, closed his eyes, and let himself recover for quite a while before he could summon the energy to pull himself together. Before heading out the door, he made a point of going over to press a kiss to the still-sleeping Zhou Jin.

He did not drive himself — he called for a taxi to take him. On the way, he called Wang Pengzhe and relayed the latest developments.

Wang Pengzhe could not help but worry upon hearing this. “Right now they know us, but we don’t know them. I’m truly afraid he’ll move against you. Hansheng… please, be careful.”

Jiang Hansheng asked him not to worry. “I’ll do my best, Professor.”

“I trust your ‘best’ about as much as I trust anything else — if you were the type of child who gave a single thought to his own wellbeing, you wouldn’t have me worrying about you to this extent.” Wang Pengzhe launched into a fresh scolding. “And Zhou Jin — let her know to take care of herself too. She charges headfirst into everything, just like you. Both of you, reckless as anything. She’s doing it for her brother; you’re doing it for her. A perfect match, truly — made for each other!”

By the end, there was a pronounced edge of helpless exasperation in his voice.

“Professor,” Jiang Hansheng said, a trace of weary resignation in his eyes. “Understood.”

He ended the call and leaned back against the rear seat. His head was throbbing as though it might crack open. He cleared his throat and let it pass.

After Zhou Jin woke and got up, she spotted the car keys left on the entryway shelf and knew Jiang Hansheng had left the car for her. She grabbed the keys and headed out.

When she arrived at the Major Crimes Unit, Yu Dan greeted her warmly: “Zhou Jin, what was it like going on official business and squeezing in a honeymoon at the same time?”

Zhou Jin made a pained face. “You call that a honeymoon?”

Zhao Ping came over too, grinning as he looked her over. Noticing that Zhou Jin’s arm was tightly wrapped in bandaging, he said with some alarm: “Senior Sister, what happened to your arm?”

Zhou Jin explained: “Burned it a bit, it’s nothing. Where’s my mentor?”

Zhao Ping pointed upward. “Waiting for you in his office. Did you find anything in Huaiguang this time? We’ve had no progress whatsoever here.”

Zhou Jin, seeing that Tan Shiming had not yet made any announcement to the team, didn’t say much and gave a casual shake of her head.

“Then I guess we keep digging.” Zhao Ping’s expression fell.

Zhou Jin said: “I’ll go find my mentor first.”

“Go ahead,” Yu Dan said. She set a freshly brewed cup of coffee down on Zhou Jin’s desk and mentioned offhandedly: “Our unit is playing against the East District Criminal Investigation team in a gaming tournament, by the way. Are you in?”

Zhou Jin laughed. “I played so well in the last tournament that their team captain unilaterally banned me from competing, ha — let Zhao Ping go in my place.”

Yu Dan: “We’re still one person short.”

Zhao Ping: “…”

Zhou Jin left it at that, turned, and walked to Tan Shiming’s office.

Tan Shiming heard the knock and set down his cup of water, telling Zhou Jin to come in.

Zhou Jin: “Mentor, you wanted to see me? You said on the phone there was a new lead — have you identified Qi Zhen?”

Tan Shiming shook his head. “We checked. No record of anyone named Qi Zhen either.”

Zhou Jin: “Then what’s the lead?”

Tan Shiming regarded Zhou Jin with a meaningful, slightly mysterious look for a moment, then first asked her: “That time you took part in the rescue operation at Jingang Wharf…”

Zhou Jin covered her face. “Are you here to hold me accountable?”

Tan Shiming said: “No — I mean, after that operation, when you came back to file your report, you mentioned that you lost your communications equipment while apprehending the enemy sniper?”

Zhou Jin nodded. “Yes — an arm-mounted radio. I must have lost it during the struggle with that person, right there in that central control tower.”

“It was never found.”

Zhou Jin furrowed her brow.

Tan Shiming said: “You told me last time that you encountered Jiang Cheng that day — is that right?”

Zhou Jin nodded: “Yes. He was…” She paused, then continued with her report: “He was acting as the receiving contact for that group of criminals.”

Tan Shiming sat in thought for a moment, his hands folded together in a steepled shape. Zhou Jin watched his face — all hesitation and indecision — as though he were weighing something in his mind. Tan Shiming was normally decisive and unflinching; it was rare to see him this uncertain.

Zhou Jin asked: “What is it?”

After another half a minute, Tan Shiming retrieved a USB drive from his desk drawer, connected it to the computer, and opened an audio file.

“This was picked up by the technical division from the police frequency band,” Tan Shiming said. “Come listen.”

After a burst of static, the signal appeared unstable. The audio came in and out, fading in and out.

“Brother Cheng, what are you up to?” This line was slightly distant, with some background noise mixed in.

Then a man’s voice came through clearly — close to the receiver, unhurried:

“It’s currently 6:18 in the afternoon. I heard there’s a boxing match livestream, not sure if I’ll be able to catch it. Is it raining outside?”

“It is — coming down pretty hard too, this godforsaken place.” One person answered him. “Brother Cheng likes boxing?”

“Don’t like boxing. I like watching the ring girls.”

His voice was lazy and unhurried, threaded through with faint static, simultaneously sensual and dissolute.

A round of laughter followed, and then another voice called over to him: “A’Cheng, come play cards. Of all the people here, your eyes are the sharpest — take a look and tell me if this kid is cheating. He keeps winning. How does he keep winning?”

He replied: “There are only five of us — mahjong needs one more. Don’t worry, he wouldn’t dare cheat. You’ve got a gun on your hip.”

“Fair enough, the kid wouldn’t dare try anything with me. Forget it — losing is driving me up the wall. A’Cheng, take my seat and take my money too, win it back for me. I heard you were absolutely dominant inside when you were doing time — raked it in, didn’t you?”

“‘Raked it in’ is too strong. A few packs of cigarettes, that’s all.”

The audio cut off abruptly.

Tan Shiming raised his eyes and looked at Zhou Jin. “Can you tell who that is — the one speaking?”

Zhou Jin’s hand clenched tightly. A layer of warm sweat rose on her palm. Then she nodded: “It’s Jiang Cheng.”

Tan Shiming: “You’re certain?”

Zhou Jin did not hesitate for even a moment: “I couldn’t be wrong.”