“Miss, what did you wish for?” Murong asked curiously, then gave herself a light tap on the mouth. “A wish spoken aloud won’t come true.”

Yan Qing’s gaze was locked unblinking on the river, her lips moving in a near-whisper. “I understand now.”

“What do you understand, Miss?” Murong looked over in puzzlement.

“Think about it — why did the perpetrator molest the victim in the middle of the road, then drag the body to the refuse bin and conceal it there?”

“It doesn’t make any sense. If he was afraid of being seen, why not drag the body away first before doing anything else? The middle of the road is exactly where people and vehicles are most likely to pass.”

“That’s because this case…” Yan Qing stopped mid-sentence. A dark shape rushed toward them from behind. Murong swung an arm back in a sharp strike; the figure blocked it, then let out a pained yelp. “Easy, Murong! Have mercy!”

Murong looked again and gasped. “Deputy Captain Bai?”

Bai Jin rubbed his arm with a grimace. “Murong, you’ve got quite a punch on you.”

Murong looked sheepish. “I’m sorry.”

“Were you here for the lantern ceremony as well, Deputy Captain Bai?” Yan Qing turned her wheelchair around with a smile.

Bai Jin said, “I wasn’t here for the lanterns — I was looking for someone. I spotted Miss Yan’s wheelchair from a distance and came right over.”

“Looking for someone? The headbanging perpetrator?”

“Looking for Han Xiling — Minister Han’s only daughter, the one doing her training at our department.”

“What do you need her for? At this hour she should have gone home long ago, shouldn’t she?”

“Miss Yan isn’t aware — Han Xiling decided to play hero. She made herself the bait and went out to draw the perpetrator.”

Yan Qing was immediately alarmed. “She has no idea what this perpetrator is actually like — she doesn’t know that the perpetrator is actually…” She stopped. “Quickly — Murong and I will help search. We need to find her as soon as possible.”

Bai Jin’s face was tight with worry. “Let’s hope tonight isn’t the night the perpetrator decides to come out. If it is, we’re in real trouble.”

All three left the riverbank at once and began searching — without any clear direction to go.

Before long, they had caught up with Shi Ting and Zheng Yun.

“Have you found her?” Bai Jin asked immediately.

“No.” Zheng Yun shook his head. “It’s not midnight yet, so Miss Han most likely hasn’t made her move. She’s probably concealed somewhere, waiting.”

Shi Ting looked briefly surprised to see Yan Qing. Bai Jin quickly explained, “I ran into Miss Yan at the river. She said the more people searching, the better.”

Yan Qing wheeled herself over to Shi Ting, her expression serious. “Shi Ting — earlier, you asked why the perpetrator molested the victim in the middle of the road and then dragged the body to the refuse bin to conceal it. If the perpetrator was brazen enough to commit the act in the open, why would he also try to hide the body? At the time I put it down to the disorganized nature of a mentally ill perpetrator. But thinking about it now, there is one other very plausible explanation.”

Every person in the group turned to listen, holding their breath.

“The location the perpetrator chose was not particularly concealed. The motive was aberrant, the method violent, the injuries concentrated, the scene baffling and inconsistent — all of this points to the pattern of a mentally ill perpetrator. But mentally ill individuals typically lack self-protective instincts. After committing a crime, they usually make no attempt to cover their tracks or clean up the scene. In many such cases, the aftermath is chaotic — evidence, fingerprints, all left behind in full. So why, in this case, did the perpetrator go to the effort of dragging the body away to delay discovery, and even perform a rudimentary cleanup of the scene? None of this fits the pattern of a mentally ill offender acting alone.”

“What if this is someone who has lucid periods and symptomatic ones?” Bai Jin offered.

“I considered that too — that’s precisely why I didn’t catch the problem earlier. When a mentally ill person commits a crime, they are in a state of heightened agitation. This typically worsens their condition. Most would need to sleep before returning to a coherent state the following day.”

“Then what does it mean?”

Yan Qing’s voice dropped slightly. She looked directly into Shi Ting’s eyes, each word deliberate: “There are two perpetrators.”

The words struck the group like a stone into still water. Everyone’s expression changed.

Two perpetrators?

—

By half past eleven, the streets of Shun Cheng were utterly empty.

The headbanging case had plunged the whole city into fear, and people had stopped going out late. Even those who could not avoid it made sure to be accompanied by family.

Along the dim street, with no lanterns lit save for the moon — which burned bright enough to cast the road in an eerie silver light — a slender silhouette moved through the dark.

She wore a high-collar, short-sleeved qipao, a white knitted shawl draped over her shoulders, a small handbag over one arm, and high-heeled leather shoes that clicked against the pavement with each step.

This was none other than Han Xiling, who had been prowling these streets for three nights running.

Han Xiling had now walked four streets. Each night she kept this up until around one in the morning before heading home.

But the perpetrator had apparently vanished without a trace. Night after night she walked until her legs went numb and blisters rose on her feet, and still — nothing.

Tonight the moonlight was particularly bright — so bright that it began to feel discouraging. She had the sense the perpetrator would not appear.

The streets were lined with small shops, all of which had closed one by one at around five or six in the evening. The residents, with little in the way of evening entertainment and eager to keep their electricity costs down, had settled in for the night by eight or nine o’clock.

As Han Xiling walked, she scanned left and right without breaking her stride. A sound suddenly came from near the refuse bin ahead — sharp enough to make her pulse spike. Her fists clenched of their own accord.

A black cat leapt out from behind the bin with a fish bone in its mouth and darted across the road.

“Damn it,” Han Xiling muttered under her breath. She let the tension go and bent down to rub her aching calves.

As she was bent over, a strange shadow appeared in front of her, growing steadily closer.

Han Xiling’s hands went still. A thin, cold smile touched the corner of her mouth.

At last.

She held her half-crouching position without moving. The shadow drew closer. She saw clearly that its hand raised a long hammer — and just as it swung downward, Han Xiling launched herself from the ground in a single motion.

The shadow had no time to react. Han Xiling’s kick connected squarely with its chest, and before it could recover, a second kick followed. The shadow crashed to the ground with a cry of pain.

“Rotten wretch,” Han Xiling said with a victorious smile, drawing a pair of handcuffs from her waist and snapping one around the person’s wrist. “How dare you try to hit me — I’m taking you straight to the Military Police Department. Your day is done.”

She was moving to cuff the other wrist when a shout erupted behind her: “Get out of the way!”

Han Xiling turned — and something struck her square on the forehead. Pain flared bright and sudden, and something warm began to flow from the top of her head. She pressed her hand to it, drew it back, and found her palm slick and red. Han Xiling’s eyes rolled back, and she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Move.” The person who had struck Han Xiling hauled the other figure to his feet, and the two of them fled into the depths of the alley, swallowed by darkness.

“Go after them.”

Zheng Yun and Bai Jin, who had arrived just moments behind, rushed after the two figures in the direction they had disappeared.

Shi Ting ran to Han Xiling and lifted her from the ground.

Yan Qing held out a handkerchief. “Press it to the wound to stop the bleeding.”

Fortunately, Han Xiling’s reflexive turn at the last moment had shifted the blow away from the vulnerable base of her skull. Had the hammer landed squarely on the back of her head, she would have been either dead or permanently disabled.

“The wound isn’t deep. She should be all right.” Yan Qing’s brow creased. “But she needs to get to a hospital — she should be checked for any other injuries.”

At the hospital, after a careful examination, the doctor confirmed there was no internal damage — only the surface wound, which did require stitches.

Han Xiling regained consciousness as the stitching began. She hadn’t been knocked out by the blow itself; she had fainted at the sight of the blood on her hand.

“Will the stitches leave a scar?” was her first question.

The doctor answered honestly, “Yes, they will.”

“Then no stitches.” Han Xiling could not accept a scar on her forehead. She refused to allow any mark on her face.

“You may decline the stitches,” came Shi Ting’s voice from behind her, entirely without menace, “but the scar that results will be considerably larger.”

Han Xiling turned and saw him, and felt a momentary flutter of conscience — though she quickly pressed past it. “Was the perpetrator caught?”

“Not yet.”

“I drew him out for you, and you still couldn’t catch him?” Han Xiling’s voice rose.

Shi Ting’s expression tightened. “Did you know there were two perpetrators?”

“I — how was I supposed to know that?”

“If we hadn’t found you tonight, you would be lying in the street right now, and on the autopsy table in the forensics room by morning.”

Han Xiling lowered her head, still radiating resentment.

“As long as you serve in the Military Police Department, you follow orders. Anyone who defies orders can expect only one outcome…” He tossed the envelope Han Xiling had previously handed him onto the bed in front of her. “You’re dismissed from the Military Police Department. Rest well and recover.”

Han Xiling’s eyes went wide, indignation bringing fresh blood seeping from her wound. “I lured the perpetrator out — doesn’t that count for something? Why won’t you give me credit for that? Why dismiss me instead?”

“We intend to catch criminals, but not at the cost of our own lives.” Shi Ting looked at her steadily. “I need my subordinates to give their all — but not to throw away their lives without a thought.”

He set several banknotes down on the nearby surface. “You’re free to refuse the stitches. That will invite infection and allow the wound to worsen, at which point the question will no longer be how many stitches you need — it may be a question of whether you need a new face.”

Han Xiling had not anticipated words quite that cutting, and yet she could find no suitable reply.

“I’ve notified Minister Han. He should be here soon. I’ll leave the rest to you.” Shi Ting delivered his final words and walked away.

“Shi Ting.” Han Xiling called after his retreating figure, unable to hold back any longer. “I only did it to make you see me differently — I only wanted to get more of your attention. Don’t you understand that?”

Shi Ting gave no sign of having heard. His tall silhouette vanished swiftly into the night.

—