Gu Hao sat on a bench in the hallway of the District Education Bureau office building, once again reaching for the cigarettes in his pocket. He glanced at the “No Smoking” sign on the wall, contemplating whether to sneak into the restroom for a quick smoke. Just then, the door to the Moral Education Office opened, and a middle-aged man wearing glasses poked his head out, waving at him.
“Mr. Gu?”
Gu Hao quickly responded and hurried into the office.
The bespectacled man introduced himself as Xu, the Deputy Director of Moral Education.
“I heard from the clerk that you’re looking for a student?” Xu inquired.
“That’s right,” Gu Hao paused briefly. “I’m a retiree. During the heavy rain a few days ago, I fell on my way home, and a high school girl helped me back. I wanted to get her name and school information to send a thank-you letter and commend her helpful spirit. But the child didn’t say anything and left immediately.”
Deputy Director Xu adjusted his glasses. “Hmm, doing good deeds without seeking recognition—she’s a good kid. What did you have in mind?”
“I believe such a child deserves praise and should be held up as an example for others to learn from, don’t you think?”
“But you don’t have any information to go on,” Deputy Director Xu spread his hands. “I can’t help you find her without that.”
“The child was wearing a blue tracksuit,” Gu Hao gestured at himself. “Blue and white, with a white stripe down the side of the pants.”
Deputy Director Xu thought for a moment, then pulled out a stack of photos from his drawer. He selected one and handed it to Gu Hao.
“Like this?”
The photo showed a stage with a banner reading “Hongyuan District Primary and Secondary Schools May Day International Labor Day Singing Competition.” Three rows of students stood on the stage, apparently performing a small chorus. They were wearing blue and white tracksuits.
“That’s right, exactly like that.”
“It’s from No. 4 Middle School,” Deputy Director Xu took back the photo. “You can ask at the school.”
“Can’t you look it up here?”
“Well… it’s not that I can’t,” Deputy Director Xu hesitated. “But wouldn’t it be easier to find this student at No. 4 Middle School?”
“Director Xu, it’s like this,” Gu Hao’s tone was earnest. “I’m a lonely old man, never married, no children. This child offered me great help when I needed it most. I feel that this spirit of helping others comes partly from the school’s guidance and partly from the Education Bureau’s persistent focus on moral education. Wouldn’t it better reflect the effectiveness of the Education Bureau’s work and showcase the fruitful results of socialist spiritual civilization if we commend this child in the name of the Education Bureau?”
“Mr. Gu, what did you do before retirement?” Deputy Director Xu was amused. “You certainly have a way with words.”
“I sincerely appreciate this student, the school, and the Education Bureau,” Gu Hao said seriously. “I understand that teachers shape their students.”
“Alright,” Deputy Director Xu stood up. “Come with me to the archives room.”
The walls of the archives room were lined with rows of gray metal filing cabinets. Deputy Director Xu motioned for Gu Hao to sit at the desk while he counted along the cabinets, muttering to himself.
“Equipment Manufacturing Vocational Technical School… No. 2 Middle School… No. 4 Middle School.” He opened one of the metal cabinets. “Personnel policies… staffing management… professional title evaluations… student records… 1992… Found it.”
He pulled out a thick hardcover folder and flipped through it. “That’s right—do you remember what the child looked like?”
Gu Hao’s tone was resolute: “I do. Long hair, single eyelids, oval face.”
“Then take a look yourself,” Deputy Director Xu handed the folder to Gu Hao. “Fifteen classes, over 600 students—that should keep you busy for a while, old sir.”
Gu Hao nodded and took the hardcover folder.
These were student records, arranged by grade and class. Gu Hao flipped through them steadily, neither rushing nor dawdling. Deputy Director Xu soon lost interest and turned to chat with the young female administrator in the archives room.
Gu Hao began to speed up, skipping directly to the second year of high school and bypassing male students and those without the surname Su. After about fifteen minutes, he found Su Lin’s name in Class 4 of the second year.
His heart pounded violently for a few beats, and he immediately shifted his gaze to the photo in the student record. His brows furrowed instantly.
Most of the girl’s face was covered by a red ink stamp, making her appear as if she were covered in blood. In the rectangular seal, the characters for “Dropped Out” stood out starkly. In contrast, the girl’s face was difficult to discern.
Gu Hao looked at the “Home Address” column and let out a long breath.
That’s her, no doubt about it.
Gu Hao closed the hardcover folder. The sound made Deputy Director Xu turn around.
“How did it go, Mr. Gu? Did you find the child?”
Gu Hao put on a puzzled expression. “No, I didn’t see anyone who looked like her.”
Deputy Director Xu seemed surprised. “Could she be from the junior high section? Kids these days mature early.”
“Now that you mention it…” Gu Hao scratched his head. “I’m not so sure anymore.”
“What should we do?” Deputy Director Xu looked back at the metal filing cabinets. “Check the junior high records? That would be a lot of work.”
Gu Hao looked troubled. “Indeed.”
“Mr. Gu, I’m quite busy here,” Deputy Director Xu thought for a moment. “How about I contact No. 4 Middle School? It would be much easier for them to search. What do you think?”
Gu Hao nodded repeatedly. “That would be great, thank you for your help.”
Deputy Director Xu noted down Gu Hao’s name, phone number, and address, then politely escorted him out of the Education Bureau office building. As soon as he was outside, the smile that had been fixed on Gu Hao’s face disappeared.
The fact that Su Lin couldn’t be found at No. 4 Middle School, yet the district Education Bureau’s records showed she had dropped out—the situation was becoming increasingly perplexing.
Su’s younger son could suddenly attend school, which meant he must have been registered in the household registry. How did Old Su manage that? Or did someone help him?
Was there a connection between this suddenly acquired legal identity and Su Lin’s disappearance?
With a head full of questions, Gu Hao found himself back at his doorstep before he knew it.
He stood in front of the building, surveying his surroundings. It was just past noon, and the sunlight was abundant. Gu Hao’s gaze swept over the residential buildings, small storage rooms, utility poles, pavilions, and the sunlight reflecting off the road. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but there was a small hope in his heart: perhaps with one glance, that pale, frail girl would emerge from some corner, give him a slight bow, and greet him with a “Hello, Uncle Gu.”
How would he respond? Perhaps just a grunt, turning his back and heading home; or maybe a nod towards the communal kitchen, gesturing for her to find those two interlocked plates.
However, as far as his eyes could see, everything was empty.
Gu Hao let out a soft sigh and walked towards the building entrance.
It was much cooler inside. Gu Hao wiped the sweat from his face, drank a large glass of cool water, lit a cigarette, and lay on the bed staring out the window.
Behind the building was a row of brick and wood structures used as small storage rooms by the residents. Between these structures and the residential building were several separated concrete planters. Some planters were carefully tended by residents, growing scallions, lettuce, and rapeseed. The planter under Gu Hao’s window, however, was untended, filled with various wildflowers he couldn’t name. Though it looked messy, it had its vitality.
As Gu Hao watched the large clusters of wildflowers swaying in the wind, he suddenly thought that the flowers and plants stuck in his doorknob might have come from here. He wasn’t knowledgeable about the flora and couldn’t tell if they were the same species, but he vaguely remembered the red, yellow, white, and green arrangements in the bottle.
He looked at the wine bottle on the table, now containing only dried water stains at the bottom and a few curled, withered leaves. Gu Hao imagined the girl bending over the planter, patiently picking flowers, and without realizing it, he fell asleep.
When he woke up, it was already evening. Gu Hao lay quietly on the bed for a while, gradually becoming more alert and feeling hungry.
He rolled out of bed and rubbed his stomach. The aroma of frying food wafted through the door crack, and Gu Hao sniffed, feeling even hungrier. He opened the refrigerator, took out two eggs, and headed toward the kitchen.
Old Su had his back to him, stir-frying meat and potato slices in the wok. Gu Hao greeted him, cracked the two eggs into a bowl, beat them, and scooped out a bowl of cold rice from the rice cooker. He set out a frying spatula and turned on the gas. When he reached for the oil bottle, his hand grasped empty air. As Gu Hao stood puzzled, Old Su awkwardly handed him the oil bottle.
“We ran out of oil at home, so I borrowed some.”
Gu Hao looked behind him, noticing a large bowl of oil tightly covered. He lowered his eyelids. “No problem.”
He heated the oil, poured in the eggs to stir-fry, then added the rice and continued cooking. Gu Hao vigorously stirred the clumps of rice, feeling short of breath.
Suddenly, the door of Room 101 burst open, and the little boy ran out crying, heading straight for Old Su.
“Hey, careful, don’t get burned,” Old Su looked at his son in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Mom hit me,” the little boy hid behind Old Su. “Dad, save me quick.”
Old Su’s wife also rushed out of the room, red-faced and still scolding. Seeing Gu Hao in the kitchen, she paused, then nodded hastily at him before reaching for the little boy.
“Why are you hitting the child?” Old Su put down his spatula and raised his arm to block her. “Can’t you talk to him properly?”
“Does talking nicely work with him?” Old Su’s wife was furious. “He just plays as soon as he gets home, not writing a single word of homework! How are you going to explain this to the teacher tomorrow?”
Old Su turned to the little boy behind him. “Why didn’t you do your homework?”
The little boy sobbed, pouting with a look of grievance at his mother.
“I’m telling you, if you don’t finish your homework today, you’re not eating dinner, and don’t even think about playing with your toys!”
With that, Old Su’s wife glared at her son and turned back to the room.
The little boy grabbed Old Su’s sleeve, shaking it repeatedly. “Dad… look at Mom…”
“It’s okay, let’s eat first,” Old Su patted his head. “But after dinner, you need to do your homework properly.”
“I don’t know how,” the little boy started crying again. “It’s different from what my sister taught me.”
“How is that possible?” Old Su’s eyes widened. “Your sister learned it the same way.”
“Old Su,” Gu Hao interrupted, pointing behind him at the iron wok.
Old Su turned to look and saw that the food had started to burn at the bottom of the wok. He hurriedly turned off the gas and vigorously stirred with the spatula, but the smell of burning food still spread through the kitchen.
Old Su cursed, then scooped the now indistinguishable meat and potato stir-fry onto a plate and handed it to the little boy.
“Take this inside first.”
He then began scraping the bottom of the wok with the spatula, producing a grating sound.
Gu Hao dished out his egg-fried rice, lit a cigarette, and offered one to Old Su. “Better soak it in water first. Scraping it hard like that will damage the work.”
Old Su took the cigarette, tossed the wok into the sink, and leaned in to light his cigarette from Gu Hao’s. He began smoking with sighs of frustration.
“The kid’s in school now?”
“Yeah,” Old Su leaned against the stove, looking worried. “Never had to worry about this before, now it’s giving me a headache.”
“His sister used to teach him at home before, right?”
“That’s right,” Old Su flicked his cigarette ash. “His mother and I don’t understand that stuff, we just feel helpless watching him struggle.”
Gu Hao looked at him through the rising smoke. “Where’s the older girl?”
“She went to stay with relatives down south,” Old Su lowered his head. “I remember telling you about it.”
“I suppose her household registration was transferred too?” Gu Hao asked casually. “Otherwise, the little one couldn’t have been registered.”
“Mm,” Old Su stubbed out his cigarette, looking like he didn’t want to continue the conversation. “Brother Gu, I should go eat now.”
“How did you manage to register him?”
Old Su looked up. “Why are you asking about this?”
“I’m a lonely old man,” Gu Hao spread his hands. “I’m planning to adopt a child from relatives to take care of me in my old age.”
Old Su blinked. “That’s good.”
“I’m still not clear on how to register the household, so I thought I’d ask for your advice.”
“I had someone help me with it,” Old Su hesitated. “I’ll ask around for you later.”
“Great,” Gu Hao cupped his hands in gratitude. “No rush, just ask when you have time. Let me know if there are any costs involved.”
Old Su nodded and returned to his room. Gu Hao discarded his cigarette butt and went back to his room with his plate of egg-fried rice. He sat on the bed and turned on the TV, but after just one bite, he tossed the spoon aside.
Damn, he forgot to add salt.
Wang Xianjiang walked into the task force’s temporary office to find only Tai Wei inside. His apprentice was standing on a chair, using a red marker to draw on a huge map of the city.
Wang Xianjiang quietly approached and watched silently for a moment, realizing that Tai Wei was tracing the possible routes of the three victims on the day they disappeared.
“Wasn’t this all on the slides?”
Startled by the sudden voice behind him, Tai Wei nearly fell off the chair. He wobbled for a few seconds before regaining his balance, then turned to see who it was and sighed in relief. “Master, you scared me!”
Wang Xianjiang’s face remained expressionless. “I asked you a question.”
“Oh, those aren’t as convenient to look at,” Tai Wei scratched his head. “It’s more visible on this map.”
Wang Xianjiang grunted and looked around. “Where are the others?”
“A few came in the morning, but they left one by one,” Tai Wei jumped down from the chair. “I guess they’re busy with other things. Everyone has other cases to work on.”
“Damn it!” Wang Xianjiang slammed the file he was holding onto the desk. “Are we not supposed to solve this case?”
Tai Wei stood silently with his hands at his sides.
Wang Xianjiang suddenly understood the implication of what his apprentice meant by “visible.” However, even if it was more visible, one could still choose to ignore it. Moreover, it was neither fair nor reasonable to blame those colleagues who had slipped away—rather than waste time on a case with no leads, it made more sense to work on other cases with abundant clues and solid foundations.
He stood there for a moment, then waved his hand. “We can work with just the two of us. Let’s go.”
Tai Wei blinked. “Where to?”
“Interviews,” Wang Xianjiang picked up the file again. “Today we’ll investigate the victims’ social connections, starting with the first victim… what was her name again?”
“Du Yuan.”
“Right, we’ll start with her.”
With that, Wang Xianjiang turned and walked towards the door. After a few steps, he realized Tai Wei wasn’t following and looked back at his apprentice.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Master,” Tai Wei looked troubled, “I feel…”
“Spit it out!”
“This kind of investigation… I don’t think it will be very effective.”
Wang Xianjiang stared at him for a few seconds. “Why?”
“These victims have no overlap in their social circles,” Tai Wei seemed to gather his courage. “Even if we map out all three of their social networks, the chances of finding an intersection point are very small…”
“Then what do you suggest?” Wang Xianjiang glared and shouted, “Should we just sit around and wait?”
He kicked over a chair in front of him. “Will sitting here in meetings solve the case?”
Tai Wei panicked. “Master, don’t be angry. I just thought… could we try a different approach?”
Standing in front of the huge map, the tall and sturdy Tai Wei suddenly seemed much smaller. Wang Xianjiang’s gaze moved past his shoulder to the curved red lines on the map.
Suddenly, he bent down to pick up the overturned chair and sat down heavily.
“Alright, go ahead and explain.”
Tai Wei rubbed the back of his head, momentarily at a loss for words. Wang Xianjiang flared up again. “What are you putting on airs for? Speak up!”
“No, no,” Tai Wei’s face turned red. “This case is different from any we’ve handled before. Apart from identifying the three victims, we have no leads, no eyewitnesses, we don’t even know where the crimes took place—we only know the bodies were dumped in the sewers. So, our old methods might not work anymore.”
Wang Xianjiang stared at him. “Go on.”
“I went to J University yesterday. There’s a professor of criminal psychology named Qiao Yunping.”
“I know him,” Wang Xianjiang nodded, lighting a cigarette. “He’s done criminal psychological profiles for us before.”
“Yeah, he’s really good,” Tai Wei’s eyes lit up. “Based on this case, he suggested a new method called criminal geographic profiling.”
“Criminal geographic…” Wang Xianjiang furrowed his brow, “profiling?”
“That’s right. It’s something the Americans came up with,” Tai Wei thought for a moment, then pulled out a notebook from his pocket. “Let me explain what I’ve learned.”
He walked to the map. “Master, no matter what case we’re working on, our ultimate goal is to find the suspect, right?”
Wang Xianjiang kept a straight face. “Obviously.”
“We now understand that the suspect must live in this city,” Tai Wei pointed at the map behind him. “Which means, he’s somewhere within the area of this map.”
“Get to the point!”
“As I understand it, the purpose of this criminal geographic profiling is to find people. How did he put it?” Tai Wei opened his notebook. “To discover the personal living space and behavioral patterns of the criminal, pointing to his most likely location.”
“Specifics?”
“There are a few basic premises. Let me explain,” Tai Wei read from his notebook methodically. “First, most criminals don’t deliberately choose their crime locations, but these seemingly random choices are often inseparable from the criminal’s perception of space. For example, criminals will choose locations where they feel safe and can control the situation. This includes areas near where they live and work, routes between these places, or familiar territories and locations.”
Wang Xianjiang rubbed his chin. “That makes sense.”
“You think so too, right?” Tai Wei was greatly encouraged and his voice gradually rose. “Secondly, in serial cases, the initial crimes often occur near the criminal’s work or residence. In the early stages of their crimes, they’re certainly nervous and don’t have strong anti-detection awareness, so they’ll leave more clues and physical evidence. As they continue to commit crimes, their methods become more skilled, their confidence grows, and they dare to attempt crimes in relatively unfamiliar locations.”
Wang Xianjiang lit another cigarette. “Committing crimes in relatively distant places?”
“Expanding the range of criminal activity. Exactly,” Tai Wei was somewhat carried away but quickly composed himself upon seeing his master’s serious expression. “An American criminal psychologist named Canter proposed the ‘Circle Hypothesis.’ He connects the two most distant crime scenes in a series of cases with a line, uses this line as a diameter, and draws a circle that includes all the crime scenes.”
He deliberately paused, trying to build suspense. Wang Xianjiang looked at him without speaking, so Tai Wei had to continue sheepishly. “The criminal lives within this circle, and is very likely to be near the center.”
Wang Xianjiang raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“When a criminal commits their first crime, they’re unlikely to choose a location very close to home, as the risk of exposure would be too high. So, the distance between the criminal’s residence or workplace and the location of the first crime can be seen as the most appropriate distance. When they commit the second crime, the location of the first crime is no longer safe enough, so they will…”
Wang Xianjiang muttered to himself, “They’ll maintain the same distance but choose a different direction.”
Tai Wei snapped his fingers. “Equal distance, different direction—isn’t that a circle? Professor Qiao also mentioned something called a ‘buffer zone’…”
“What’s the use of all this?” Wang Xianjiang suddenly interrupted him. “How does it help us?”
Tai Wei was taken aback. “I… Didn’t you just…”
“The premise of this criminal geographic profiling analysis is having clear crime locations,” Wang Xianjiang said bluntly. “We only know the bodies were dumped in sewers. As for how that bastard made contact with the victims, where he subdued them, where he carried out the rapes, where he killed them—we don’t know any of that.”
“Don’t worry,” Tai Wei pointed at the large map. “That’s what I’m analyzing here.”
Wang Xianjiang glared. “Analyzing?”
“Yes,” Tai Wei counted on his fingers. “We now roughly know the victims’ living and working locations, daily routines, and their starting points on the day they disappeared. For example, Sun Hui—Huimin Road, Fengshou Street, Xiaonan First Road—must have encountered trouble on one of these three streets.”
“So?”
“We can analyze the most likely crime locations through on-site inspections of these streets.”
“You call that analysis? That’s guessing!”
“What else can we do?” Tai Wei spread his hands. “Do we have a better method?”
Wang Xianjiang thought for a moment, rubbed his face, and sighed deeply.
“Let’s go,” he stood up. “We’ll take a look at these places.”
Tai Wei immediately changed his expression. “Master, we’ll rely on your rich experience when we get there.”
Wang Xianjiang still looked grim. “Get lost!”
Huimin Road was the closest to the city’s Public Security Bureau. Wang Xianjiang and Tai Wei discussed briefly and decided to first analyze Sun Hui’s disappearance location.
Starting point: Municipal Organs’ First Kindergarten. Endpoint: Building 4, No. 22, Xiaonan First Road, Beiguan District.
Wang Xianjiang sat in the passenger seat, looking at the entrance of the Municipal Organs’ First Kindergarten, then at Huimin Road a few dozen meters away. “How did she usually get home?”
“According to Sun Hui’s colleagues, she usually rode a bicycle and mostly traveled alone. On the day of the incident, she worked normal hours. She left the kindergarten around 5:30 PM,” Tai Wei pointed to the intersection ahead. “Her usual route was to turn left here onto Huimin Road.”
“Let’s take a look,” Wang Xianjiang instructed. “Drive slowly along the edge.”
The Beijing Jeep slowly entered Huimin Road. Tai Wei drove while Wang Xianjiang kept his eyes on the roadside, scanning the walls, newsstands, fruit stands, and residential buildings. Occasionally, he would ask Tai Wei to stop so he could check the direction of a small alley on the map, ruling out the possibility of Sun Hui entering before continuing.
After about fifteen minutes, the Jeep reached the intersection of Huimin Road and Fengshou Street. This was one of the city’s main thoroughfares, with a wide road and many pedestrians and vehicles.
“Master, Sun Hui disappeared on her way home from work,” Tai Wei parked the car on the side of the road. “It was probably between 5:30 and 6:00 PM, during rush hour. This road would have been busy then, so it’s unlikely to be the crime scene, right?”
“Forcible abduction is unlikely,” Wang Xianjiang rubbed his chin. “But what if she went willingly with someone?”
“That doesn’t make much sense,” Tai Wei thought for a moment. “We analyzed earlier that the bastard is likely a low-income individual, probably not well-dressed or well-spoken—would Sun Hui go with him without any suspicion?”
“It’s not just her, the other two victims have the same issue,” Wang Xianjiang seemed to be talking to himself. “How did the killer make contact with the victims?”
Tai Wei fell silent, patiently waiting for his next instruction. After pondering for a while, Wang Xianjiang waved his hand. “Let’s stick with the abduction theory for now. Look for secluded areas.”
Tai Wei nodded, started the Jeep, quickly passed through Fengshou Street, and turned onto Xiaonan First Road. Wang Xianjiang only needed a glance to realize there was no need for a slow investigation—the roadside was lined with high walls, there were only two intersections, and Sun Hui’s home was not far away.
The Jeep quickly reached its destination: No. 22, Xiaonan First Road, Beiguan District. This was the residential area for the Material Testing Machine Factory, where Sun Hui’s father had been allocated housing before he passed away.
The residential area was enclosed, with surrounding walls. After leaving Xiaonan First Road, one had to travel 1.2 kilometers on a dirt road to reach the small side entrance of the residential area on the left. On the right side of the dirt road was an empty lot temporarily separated by metal sheet fencing.
Wang Xianjiang pointed at the blue metal sheet fencing. “What’s this place?”
Tai Wei looked at the map. “It used to be a transformer factory. Looks like it’s been demolished, probably for building commercial housing.”
Wang Xianjiang thought for a moment. “Let’s get out.”
The two walked along the blue metal sheet fencing for several dozen meters until they saw a torn section of the metal sheeting, just wide enough for a person to pass through. Wang Xianjiang squeezed through, looking at the few low walls and overgrown weeds left on the empty lot—among the ruins, a few scavenger-like individuals were still searching for items they could sell.
Wang Xianjiang stepped back out, looked at the wall on the left, then turned to Tai Wei.
Tai Wei understood his meaning. He opened the map, examined it carefully, and then pointed ahead. “The Material Testing Machine Factory is on the west side, and the main entrance to the residential area is also on the west side. Most employees would enter through the main gate after work, so there probably aren’t many people walking on this road.”
Wang Xianjiang nodded. “So this place fits the conditions for committing a crime.”
Tai Wei smiled wryly. “Sun Hui was less than 500 meters from home in a straight line.”
He took out his red marker, bit off the cap, and drew a red circle on the map.