Wang Bide had originally intended to call another car and leave, but seeing He Yunqin approach, he stayed where he was, holding his breath as he asked: “How is it, any news?”
He Yunqin didn’t answer in time, instead sitting down in the driver’s seat and starting the car.
Wang Bide read his expression, his heart quietly rising into his throat. The moment He Yunqin had taken that call his expression had changed drastically—things for Hongdou were probably looking grim. Fearing He Yunqin might completely lose his composure, he hastily got in as well: “I’ll come with you.”
The car had been abandoned in front of a girls’ middle school on Fuyuan Road. By the time He Yunqin and Wang Bide arrived, several people had already searched both inside and outside the school and were about to continue searching further down the street. Seeing He Yunqin and Wang Bide arrive, they hurried over.
He Yunqin walked straight to the car, crouched down to examine the marks by the car door, and asked, forcing himself to remain calm: “Have you checked who owns this car?”
The moment he spoke, everyone present, Wang Bide included, was startled, because He Yunqin’s voice was hoarse as though rubbed raw with sandpaper, utterly unlike his usual self. Anyone with a little knowledge of Western medicine would recognize this as severe inflammation of the vocal cords.
One of the men, too flustered to dwell on his shock, hastily said: “We’ve already checked the plate number—it’s registered under Fu Zixiao, the comprador of Daxing Trading Company.”
He Yunqin was visibly stunned for a moment, and Wang Bide nearly jumped: “I remember now—the corpse at the school was Fu Zixiao! I’d only met him once, at the wedding, which is why I couldn’t recognize him earlier. So this car really is his—could it be the murderer not only killed Fu Zixiao, but afterward drove his car to take someone away?”
Though the men present each had their own areas of expertise, none had been trained in the science of tracking. He Yunqin took a compact German-made flashlight from his coat and switched it on, shining it over the ground near the tires.
Because of the rain, the ground was somewhat muddy. Beside the front driver’s-side door were footprints from a man’s shoes, roughly eight inches, leading forward from the car door, faint and intermittent. By the time they reached the cement pavement, the mud on the shoe soles had gradually dried, and the prints grew progressively blurrier until they vanished entirely.
Once he confirmed that this line of footprints had belonged to only one person the whole way, an unbelievable guess surfaced in his mind. He hastily stood, circled around to the back door, and to his surprise found another set of faint footprints remaining there as well—yet unlike the prints in front, these were noticeably more delicate. At a glance, his heart began pounding wildly.
He followed this line of prints for a stretch; they were intermittent, sometimes light and sometimes heavy, but unfortunately, just like the prints in front, grew increasingly blurred the farther they went, eventually mixing indistinguishably with the many other footprints near the school gate leading toward the nearby park, impossible to track any further.
The school was located in a busy district. To the left was a long, narrow alley crowded with old houses of a uniform style; to the right was a small park with an unassuming entrance. Both inside and outside the park were utterly silent, as though it had already reached closing time—the main gate was locked tight.
He forced himself not to panic, standing at the school gate and gazing for a long moment. He did not head back into the school, but instead walked straight toward the park.
Someone behind him said: “Yunqin, this foreign-style park closes at nine. We already went in and searched before it closed—found nothing out of place.” The implication was that there was no need to waste more time here, and they should hurry to search elsewhere.
He Yunqin, however, seemed not to hear this at all, and insisted on entering the park. Wang Bide and the others then split into two groups—one went to search elsewhere, while the rest followed He Yunqin. At the entrance, after some negotiation with the gatekeeper and a generous tip, the gate was finally opened. The park’s streetlamps were unattended and had already been switched off, leaving everything pitch black. Several of them shone their flashlights along the willow-lined path, searching all the way to the very back. Half an hour passed, every area searched, yet still nothing was found.
Coming out from the flowerbed in the northeast corner, Wang Bide had already given up hope. Rather than continue wasting time here, he thought it better to move elsewhere, and was about to persuade He Yunqin of this when, just at that moment, from the bushes near the lakeside pavilion behind them, there came a faint rustling sound, as if some heavy object were dragging across the fallen leaves on the ground.
Because that spot was nestled between the rockery and the lake, thickly shaded by trees during the day and pitch black at night, it was extremely easy to overlook. He Yunqin’s heart gave a sudden lurch—the sound had rung out only faintly once before falling silent again.
He listened intently for a moment, then carefully made his way toward the sound. When he parted the bushes and shone his flashlight inside, his heart froze still in his chest—there, lying silently on the ground, was a figure. From the outline of the form, who else could it be but Hongdou? His eyes suddenly reddened, and for a moment he couldn’t move, standing there numbly for a good while before finally holding his breath and stepping in, though the closer he got the more anguished he became, terrified that he’d come too late and all that awaited him was a cold corpse.
Once he crouched down beside Hongdou and heard her extremely faint yet steady breathing, the blood in his body finally surged warmly back to life. He hastily gathered her into his arms, his voice cracked: “Hongdou.”
Hongdou’s sleeping face was utterly peaceful; when he lifted her, she only faintly furrowed her brow.
He Yunqin carefully brushed the hair from her forehead. That she was sleeping so deeply was due to the remaining anesthetic still in her system. He turned back to Wang Bide: “Captain Wang, lend me the liquor you’re carrying.”
Wang Bide, having just found Hongdou, had already breathed a great sigh of relief, only puzzling to himself—judging from the footprints by the car earlier, the murderer must have left Hongdou in the car and abandoned it here before leaving on his own, and Hongdou must have woken partway, groggily gotten out of the car, and for some unknown reason ended up in this park.
Hearing this request, he handed the liquor to He Yunqin, puzzled: “What’s this for?”
He Yunqin unscrewed the cap, tilted his head back and took a swallow, then poured some of the liquor from the bottle over Hongdou. Only then did he take off his coat, wrap Hongdou snugly in it, and lift her up, saying to Wang Bide: “I’m taking her home now. Help me call Dr. Ruide, tell him my wife has had too much to drink and ask him to come see her right away.”
Wang Bide nodded hastily: “Alright. I’ll go to the Gu residence to find Gu Yun once I’m done with the call.”
He Yunqin used his clothing to cover Hongdou’s head and face, carried her the entire way out of the park, and once he’d laid her on the back seat, took the red coat she’d lost from someone nearby and covered her entirely with it. Only then did he give the others a few instructions before starting the car and driving toward the He residence.
Along the way, he kept glancing back at the rear seat through the rearview mirror. Though Hongdou still hadn’t woken, he felt as though he’d survived a catastrophe, several times overcome by the urge to weep, while also worrying that the anesthetic might have harmed her health, single-mindedly wanting to get her home as quickly as possible.
Finally arriving at the He residence, still keeping her head and face covered with the coat, he carried her sideways in his arms, up the steps, and into the house.
It wasn’t yet ten o’clock. The He family usually had many social engagements and tended to retire late; among the entire household, only He Zhuyun, being frail of health, had already gone to bed early.
As He Yunqin carried Hongdou past the parlor, He Mengmei was in the middle of conversation with Madame He in the sitting room. He Ningzheng and Duan Mingyi, having gone to visit friends that evening, had also just returned.
Seeing He Yunqin carrying Hongdou, everyone was startled. Madame He hurriedly rose from the sofa and came closer: “Why are you back so late? What’s happened to Hongdou?”
He Yunqin smiled as though nothing were wrong: “I took her to a friend’s place just now. Since things got lively, I pressed her to drink several cups too many—turns out she can’t hold her liquor at all, and got drunk after only a few. Worried she wasn’t feeling well, I brought her home early. I’ve already called Ruide, he’ll be by shortly to check on her.”
Madame He was startled: “What’s happened to your voice?”
He Yunqin coughed: “Drank too fast.”
Madame He had already caught the scent of liquor on her son’s breath, and noticing the same thick, sweet, intoxicated smell clinging to Hongdou, guessed she must be quite drunk, and said with some annoyance: “You’re being reckless, this child. Hongdou’s still so young—how could she drink heavily like you men do? Hurry and take her to her room; someone drunk is most susceptible to catching a chill, remember to cover her with a blanket. I’ll have Mrs. Wang boil some sobering soup right away. Something’s wrong with your voice too—since Ruide’s coming, make sure he examines you as well.”
He Ningzheng added: “I have some sobering pills in my room, I’ll send them over to my sister-in-law in a bit.”
He Yunqin had already carried Hongdou up the stairs, saying: “Then my thanks to Elder Brother.”