June 11, 1994, Saturday, sunny.
After much deliberation, I’ve chosen this date for today’s diary entry, even though it’s past midnight now. I’m recording events from the past few hours.
My biological clock has fully adjusted, and I’ve started living a day-night reversed life. It’s very easy to do this when living in the sewers. He took some time to adapt because he was used to going out to work during the day and sleeping at night. However, I don’t want to crawl to the surface in broad daylight. I’m certain I belong here, so daylight doesn’t suit me. I’m not one of those nine-to-five people who rise with the sun and rest at sunset. The sunlight belongs to them; the night belongs to me and him.
Well, I admit, it’s not that I don’t want to go out during the day – I’m afraid to.
I’ve fantasized about what would happen if I encountered someone I knew. They’d stand at a distance, squinting to recognize me, and then exclaim, “Oh my, what happened to you?”
They’d be disgusted, surprised, maybe even gloat, and perhaps feel a bit of pity.
But what good would their pity do? If they were kind enough, they might try to take me home.
I don’t want that.
What I fear most is encountering the Su family. I’m terrified of seeing their troubled expressions and hesitant looks after the initial ecstasy, tearful embraces, and concerned scolding.
Two children, but they could only keep one. Over a decade ago, they let me stay simply because I arrived before my brother. Once I emerged from that woman’s body, they couldn’t bring themselves to end my life – I can even imagine the man’s expression when he first saw me.
So, I choose to return to the surface only after nightfall. The night divides the world in two, but for me, there’s no difference.
The night is darkness’s accomplice. It shields me, with my matching color, as I emerge from underground when all is quiet. The evening breeze disperses the stench of decay from my body, and my eyes shine like stars.
I wonder how many others in this city choose to wander the streets at night like me. During the day, I relinquish the bustling scenes to others; at night, I reclaim lost territory. We coexist peacefully, not disturbing each other.
Lonely? No, I have him with me.
I’ve grown accustomed to life underground. At least, I’m familiar enough with our daily shelter. The dry area we share is only about 20-30 square meters. Further in is a large concrete pool with about a meter of stagnant, unusable water. In the corner of the pool is an iron ladder leading to a pipe above. I’m curious about it because water often trickles from that pipe. But he says it’s blocked – of course, I’ve guessed this from his gestures and mumbled speech.
I rarely see him express emotions. Most of the time, he wears a dull expression. The only things that excite him are finding a water bottle or some cardboard. However, he’s willing to follow me as we wander through the streets. Although he occasionally leaves me to pursue his “prey,” it’s never long before I hear his heavy footsteps behind me again.
I must admit, he’s my only support in this underground life. He even found me some clothes. Though they’re secondhand and don’t fit well, at least I can change out of my dirty school uniform.
He reminds me of a TV series I once watched called “Beauty and the Beast” – about a beautiful lawyer named Catherine and Vincent, a kind-hearted but deformed man living in the sewers with a lion-like face. In the past, whenever I passed manholes missing their covers, I wondered if there were fierce-looking but kind-hearted monsters living inside. Now, I’m sure of it.
So, I often wonder if even more incredible things will happen in my unbelievably tragic life. Whatever happens, I’m curious about the future and either eagerly or resignedly await its arrival.
He often watches her hunched over by candlelight, writing, and drawing in that hardcover notebook, not knowing what she’s thinking.
The “room” suddenly had another person, and with her came many new things: rusty wire hangers, old toothbrushes, plastic buckets, a chipped enamel basin, a cracked glass, a kettle without a handle, a mattress with exposed springs – heaven knows how much effort it took to squeeze that thing through the manhole!
But these “useless” items made Little Blue very happy. He remembers how she stood by the trash bin, waving those hangers at him excitedly. So, he didn’t bother calculating how much those lightweight wires were worth and let her bring them back to the sewer.
In a sense, Little Blue disrupted his life – if you could call it that. She needed to go up for fresh air but refused to go out during the day. He had to follow her out of the manhole in the dead of night. This troubled him because after his colleagues had scavenged all day, there was little “prey” left on the surface. He had to expend more energy than before to find things he could exchange for food, beer, and cigarettes.
Little Blue could help a bit. That delicate girl could climb into trash bins and patiently rummage through them. Of course, most of what she found was worthless in his eyes. Still, he was happy to be with her. Although the harvest was meager and the night streets silent, what difference did it make to him if the streets were bustling and noisy?
Having someone by his side seemed to give him a companion. Even if he had to reduce his smoking and drinking to provide an extra portion of food; even if he had to spend energy looking for ballpoint pens and pencil leads; even if he had to endure candle consumption several times higher than usual.
She had some strange requests, like alcohol, soap, and towels.
Even choosing the cheapest options, these items still cost him nearly two days’ income. When dawn broke and Little Blue urged him back into the sewer, she would collapse onto the old mattress and sleep soundly. He, however, would force his tired body back to the surface after just two hours of sleep. Firstly, he needed to sell last night’s findings to exchange for the day’s food and drink. Secondly, he had to try to pick up more things before his lazy colleagues woke up. Therefore, he had to venture further into unfamiliar areas, risking conflicts with other homeless people, to find more valuable items.
However, when he handed the soap and towel to Little Blue and heard her joyful exclamation, saw her ecstatic expression as she held the soap to her nose, he felt a warmth spread through his body, as if he’d just eaten a meat bun and downed half a jin of baijiu.
By nightfall, he also learned the purpose of that bottle of alcohol.
Little Blue cut a beer can in half and patiently punched a ring of small holes in the bottom half using a nail and a brick. Then, she took out a large plastic bucket and several large water bottles she had found, begging him to fetch some clean water.
So he ran to a nearby construction site, filled all the containers with tap water, and laboriously carried them back.
Little Blue was overjoyed. She used some water to clean the tin kettle and twisted a piece of wire onto it as a makeshift handle. Then, she poured alcohol into the cut beer can and lit it, creating a flame. She placed the tin kettle on this makeshift alcohol stove and watched it expectantly.
The candlelight and the flame from the alcohol stove filled the entire “room,” seemingly raising the temperature inside. He handed Little Blue a bun, and they sat together around the alcohol stove, eating slowly. Gradually, the water in the tin kettle began to make a hissing sound, and large plumes of steam emerged from the spout. His body grew warmer. He couldn’t help but stretch out his limbs, letting the warmth spread to more places.
It felt so good, like basking in the sun against a wall.
Little Blue remained by the alcohol stove. Her dirt-covered face was flushed, and beneath her messy hair, her eyes sparkled, as if anticipating something.
Occasionally, she would glance at him, meeting his gaze with a grateful smile. He didn’t know what she was trying to do. But her happiness inexplicably made him happy too.
Finally, the tin kettle began to bubble and steam vigorously. Little Blue found the old enamel basin, put the towel in it, then carefully opened the soap box and sniffed it again.
“Get up,” she said, seeming impatient. “You go out first.”
He was a bit confused but obediently did as she said. Little Blue pushed him to the round iron door, pointing outside.
“Wait for me outside,” she said, looking at him seriously with wide eyes. “Don’t come in until I open the door, understand?”
He grumbled discontentedly but nodded.
She then pushed him out and closed the iron door.
Leaving the warm “room,” the cold wind in the rainwater pipe made him shiver. He wrapped his clothes tightly around himself and slowly squatted down, leaning against the pipe wall.
It was pitch black. It took him a while to adjust. Except for the faint sound of running water, everything was silent. He began to feel bored, thinking it would be nice to catch a rat to play with.
What was Little Blue doing?
He turned his head to look in the direction of the iron door and listened carefully. After a moment, he shook his head and continued to squat obediently. The drowsiness that had accumulated in the warmth gradually overcame him, and he buried his head between his knees, slowly falling asleep.
He didn’t know how long it had been when a clanging sound woke him. He instinctively turned his head, and through his sleepy eyes, he saw a halo of light. Little Blue stood in the middle of it. In the silhouette created by the candlelight, steam rose from her body, as if she was emitting a soft glow.
He stared at her, dazed. It wasn’t until she softly said, “Come in,” that he snapped out of it.
The “room” was still warm, and an indescribable fragrance lingered in the air. Another kettle of hot water was boiling on the alcohol stove, making cheerful noises.
Little Blue had changed into a white shirt with two buttons missing from the chest. But even though it was too big for her thin frame, it still looked oversized.
Her hair had become soft, clean, and shiny black, with water still dripping from the ends, creating wet spots on the white shirt. Her face was also clean, restored to its original fairness, with a lingering blush on her cheeks.
She had rolled up her sleeves high, revealing arms now free of grime, exposing fair skin. The hem of the white shirt revealed two bare legs. Barefoot. Like her complexion, her whole being seemed to glow.
Compared to the disheveled Little Blue from before, the girl before him seemed like a different person entirely.
She appeared to be in a good mood and cheerfully ordered him to sit on the mattress. Then she poured some cold water into the enamel basin, added hot water from the alcohol stove, tested the temperature, and soaked the towel in it.
“Don’t move.”
Little Blue knelt in front of him, pushing away the messy hair covering his face. He immediately smelled the fragrance emanating from her and instinctively leaned back a little.
“Don’t move,” Little Blue scolded gently. Then she covered his face with the wet towel.
Hot. Soft. Moist. A heart-refreshing fragrance.
He couldn’t help but let out a moan.
“Too hot?”
He closed his eyes, and shook his head, feeling content.
After about ten seconds, Little Blue removed the towel from his face. He reluctantly opened his eyes to see Little Blue pouting and clicking her tongue.
“My goodness, how long has it been since you last washed your face?”
She soaked the towel in the enamel basin again, wrung it out halfway, and approached him, carefully wiping his face.
The towel quickly became stained. Little Blue complained but continued to rinse the towel and wipe his face repeatedly.
Itchy, painful, and the pleasant sensation of pores opening alternated on his face. He closed his eyes again, mumbling softly, tilting his face up, allowing Little Blue to work on his face.
The water in the enamel basin had turned a murky gray-black. Little Blue put down the towel and cupped his face with both hands, parting his messy hair.
The thick, unruly beard remained, but his face had been wiped clean. Years of grime had been cleared from the wrinkles and furrows. A dark-complexioned face with high cheekbones and covered in fine scars appeared before her.
He opened his eyes to find Xiao Lan gazing at him tenderly.
Instinctively, he tried to pull away, feeling flustered. Yet, her cool hands and intent gaze made him reluctant to retreat.
“Vincent,” she said softly.
He stared at her blankly, unable to comprehend.
“Vincent,” she repeated gently. “From today on, your name is Vincent. Remember that, alright?”
Still confused, he simply gazed at her.
“Repeat after me,” she instructed, pointing to herself and enunciating clearly. “Vin-cent.”
“Oh…” he mumbled awkwardly. “…cent.”
“No, not quite,” she said, fixing her eyes on him. “Vin.”
“Oh… Vin.”
“Cent.”
“Cent.”
“Now put it together,” Xiao Lan urged, her eyes sparkling. “Vincent.”
“Vin…” he managed haltingly. “Vincent.”
She smiled. “You are Vincent.”
He smiled too, pointing to himself. “I am Vincent.”
Xiao Lan clapped her hands, her joyful voice echoing in the cramped “room”. “From now on, when I call you Vincent, you must respond.”
Imitating her, he clapped his hands. “Vincent.”
Xiao Lan’s laughter subsided as she reached out to stroke his hair and beard. “We’ll need to tidy you up soon.”
She gestured vaguely in one direction. “If you see scissors again, keep them, alright?”
Suddenly, his expression changed. He lunged forward, grabbing her hand swiftly.
“There, never,” he mumbled, staring intently at the startled Xiao Lan. “You alone, don’t go.”
At the police station, piles of documents covered the long conference table. Wang Xianjiang sat beside one stack, peering through his reading glasses at a resident information form. Just then, a young police officer entered, carrying a thick pile of files. He turned to close the door with his foot.
Wang Xianjiang removed his glasses. “Where are these from?”
“Xiaobei Middle Road Police Station,” the young officer replied, panting. “Where should I put them?”
Wang Xianjiang pointed to an empty spot on the table. The young officer set down the files and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Find the B2 stack of information forms,” Wang Xianjiang instructed, pushing a printed paper towards him. “Screen the individuals according to these criteria.”
The young officer acknowledged but remained still.
After a moment, Wang Xianjiang looked up. “What are you thinking about?”
“Uncle Wang, would it be alright if I work here until lunch break, and then…” the young officer hesitated. “I still have tasks assigned by my captain.”
“I see,” Wang Xianjiang lowered his eyes. “You can leave now.”
“No, no. I can help for another hour or so.”
The young officer’s face reddened. He scratched his head, standing awkwardly for a few seconds. Seeing that Wang Xianjiang had nothing more to say, he sheepishly opened the door and left.
A sigh came from behind another pile of documents. Tai Wei emerged, slowly walking to the newly delivered files.
“Xiaobei Middle Road Police Station…” Tai Wei took out a blank piece of paper and uncapped his pen. “Master, which F was it again?”
Wang Xianjiang thought for a moment. “F3.”
Tai Wei acknowledged and wrote “Xiaobei Middle Road Police Station” and “F3” on the paper. Then, he approached the large city map, selecting an area marked with a red circle. He examined it, muttering to himself.
“Xiaobei Middle Road Station, Minjiang Street Station, Baihua Mountain Station…” He made a checkmark inside the red circle. “Master, we’ve got all the data for F District.”
“Which districts are still missing data?”
“Let me see,” Tai Wei peered at the map again. “B and E Districts are still missing a few.”
“Alright,” Wang Xianjiang said without looking up. “Let’s continue screening.”
“Damn,” Tai Wei grimaced. “There are quite a lot of eligible males with blood type A. How long will it take us to screen them all?”
“We have no choice,” Wang Xianjiang replied calmly. “It’s already helpful that the local stations can screen out these individuals for us. We’ll have to analyze the work conditions, living situations, and marital status ourselves.”
“This isn’t police work; it’s more like being a statistician.”
“What did you expect?” Wang Xianjiang chuckled. “Did you think being a police officer was all about driving around with sirens blaring and arresting people with guns?”
Tai Wei sat back down at the table, picking up a resident information form. “That would be more exciting.”
“Stop complaining,” Wang Xianjiang tossed a crumpled paper at him. “Get to work!”
“We’re first screening for divorced or single individuals, right?” Tai Wei dodged, smiling. “Anything else?”
“That’s the first round,” Wang Xianjiang pondered. “After that, we’ll screen for those working in public institutions and self-employed business owners.”
“When are we going to the vehicle management office?”
“Let’s do two rounds of screening first,” Wang Xianjiang rubbed his chin. “We’ll get a feel for the situation first.”
Suddenly, he seemed to remember something. He stood up, opened the file cabinet by the wall, and took out a photo from a folder. After examining it, he put it in his pocket. Then, he picked up the phone and dialed a number.
The two men sat at opposite ends of the long conference table, carefully screening male residents from various key areas. Two hours passed quickly. Wang Xianjiang stood up, stretching his sore back, and took a sip of cold tea.
“It’s already noon,” Wang Xianjiang checked his watch. “Are you hungry, kid?”
“Just a moment,” Tai Wei was still focused on the resident information form in his hand. After finishing, he placed it on the screened pile. “I am getting a bit hungry.”
“Let’s go,” Wang Xianjiang stood up. “We’ll get something to eat outside.”
They had lunch at a Kaifeng soup dumpling restaurant across from the city bureau. They ordered four baskets of soup dumplings and two side dishes and began eating.
Tai Wei ate messily, quickly finishing a basket of dumplings. Wang Xianjiang, however, seemed distracted, often staring blankly at the table.
“Master, what are you thinking about?” Tai Wei stuffed a piece of meat jelly into his mouth. “Not eating enthusiastically means you’ve got something on your mind.”
Wang Xianjiang tapped Tai Wei’s head with his chopsticks. “How many people have you screened out?”
“About sixty or so.”
Wang Xianjiang thought for a moment. “We’ll probably screen out over 400 people from our defined key areas.”
“No worries,” Tai Wei seemed unconcerned. “We can screen out quite a few more at the vehicle management office—not many people have cars.”
“That’s still a lot for us to handle,” Wang Xianjiang shook his head. “As Professor Qiao said, we need to make every minute count.”
“Can’t be helped,” Tai Wei snorted. “We’re the only ones willing to search for a needle in a haystack.”
“That’s why we need to find another approach.”
Tai Wei looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“All three female corpses were completely naked,” Wang Xianjiang toyed with the fried peanuts on his plate. “Where did their clothes and personal belongings go?”
Tai Wei blinked. “Burned, buried, or thrown away.”
“Yes, small items are easy to dispose of,” Wang Xianjiang nodded. “What about larger items?”
“Sun Hui’s bicycle,” Tai Wei realized immediately. “But we’ve already checked the second-hand bicycle markets in the city and found nothing.”
“It might have entered the market already.”
“That would be quite a search,” Tai Wei deflated. “There must be over a million bicycle riders in the city.”
“Indeed,” Wang Xianjiang said calmly. “That’s why we need more eyes.”
Tai Wei was even more confused. “What do you mean?”
Just then, the shop door opened, and the bell above it jingled.
Wang Xianjiang looked up. “Here come our eyes.”
Tai Wei turned to see a man in his thirties enter. After glancing around, the man headed straight for their table.
The man plopped down next to Wang Xianjiang, brazenly taking a cigarette from the pack on the table and lighting it.
“Uncle Wang, I’m begging you, can you not send beat cops directly to my house next time?” the man yawned, lazily smoking. “You scared all my girls away.”
“Liu Shengli, just call him Shengli,” Wang Xianjiang nodded toward him, then pointed at Tai Wei. “My apprentice, call him Brother Tai.”
Liu Shengli sized up Tai Wei, who was much younger than him and nodded. “Brother Tai.”
“Brother Tai” had already guessed his identity and remained composed.
Liu Shengli reached for a soup dumpling, but Wang Xianjiang swatted his hand away. “Go wash your hands and get another set of utensils.”
While he was away, Tai Wei whispered, “Your informant?”
“An old one. A ‘horse rider’ (slang for bicycle and motorcycle thief),” Wang Xianjiang smiled. “He’s the kingpin of thieves in the Xiaobei Street area and has connections with several theft rings in the city.”
“I see, you want him to look for the bicycle?”
“Exactly. We’ll continue screening people, and let them do the street work.”
Liu Shengli returned with utensils and ordered two more baskets of soup dumplings, a plate of pork knuckle, and a bottle of beer.
He opened the beer with his teeth, spitting the cap on the ground, and took a swig. “What do you need me for?”
Wang Xianjiang took a photo from his pocket, showing Sun Hui pushing a bicycle, posing with her mother in front of their building.
“My niece-in-law’s bicycle was stolen. Help me find it.”
Liu Shengli glanced at the photo. “A Flying Pigeon? Hard to find, too many identical ones.”
“It’s red, no front fender and the basket is dented,” Wang Xianjiang pointed at the bicycle in the photo. “The right handlebar is cracked, and the rear fender’s reflector is missing.”
“Why bother with this old thing?” Liu Shengli scoffed. “We wouldn’t even want it. It’d be faster to just buy a new one.”
“It was bought for her wedding, and has sentimental value,” Wang Xianjiang placed the photo on the table. “Once you find the bike, don’t alarm the current owner. Just get their address and contact me immediately.”
“What?” Liu Shengli chuckled. “You’re not going to arrest someone over an old bike, are you?”
“That’s none of your business. Just do as I say,” Wang Xianjiang said sternly. “This is urgent. Mobilize everyone you know.”
“Alright,” Liu Shengli tucked the photo into his pocket and held out his hand. “Three hundred.”
Wang Xianjiang stared at him for a few seconds. “Liu Shengli, am I being too nice to you?”
“Don’t you need to pay people for help?” Liu Shengli looked aggrieved. “You said it’s urgent, and I’ll have to ask Old Si and Wenguan for favors too.”
“Two hundred.”
“No way,” Liu Shengli put a slice of meat in his mouth. “I’d be losing money.”
“Fine,” Wang Xianjiang narrowed his eyes. “Let’s see if you’ll still have a ‘horse to ride’ in the future.”
“Uncle Wang, we’re old friends. No need for that, right?” Liu Shengli looked resigned. “Alright, consider it my treat.”
Wang Xianjiang took out his wallet and produced two fifty-yuan notes. “The remaining hundred you’ll get when you find the bike. I want news within a week.”
“Wait for my call,” Liu Shengli pocketed the money, still grumbling. “You’re so stingy.”
“Get moving. Don’t make me come looking for you,” Wang Xianjiang stood up, signaling Tai Wei to follow him out.
“Hey!” Liu Shengli panicked. “You need to pay the bill!”
Wang Xianjiang ignored him, leaving with Tai Wei. Liu Shengli was left cursing quietly over his half-eaten pork knuckle.