That morning’s atmosphere was awkward. Jiang Yushu and Jiang Ting ate breakfast in near silence. As she washed the dishes, her daughter got ready and picked up her lunchbox. At the door, Jiang Ting mumbled, “I’m off to school,” and left without waiting for a response.
Jiang Yushu stood at the sink for a moment, barely controlling her emotions before finishing the dishes. Jiang Ting was troubled, and it was seriously affecting her life and studies. Worse still, she wouldn’t talk about it.
When Jiang Yushu discovered her daughter’s empty bed, she immediately searched every corner of the house. Confirming Jiang Ting wasn’t there, she grabbed a flashlight and rushed out.
This was highly unusual. Jiang Ting had never snuck out alone late at night. Without time to ponder the reasons, Jiang Yushu ran downstairs, calling her daughter’s name while searching the neighborhood.
The night was deep, and the world slept. Jiang Yushu walked past building after building, her voice growing hoarse and her legs weakening. She had no idea how long or far her daughter had gone. Though searching the neighborhood might be futile, Jiang Yushu was too panicked to think clearly. Soon, she had scoured the small area with no sign of Jiang Ting. Glancing at the lit street not far away, she considered searching there before resorting to calling the police.
As Jiang Yushu headed towards the neighborhood exit, eyes fixed on the road where occasional trucks rumbled by, she caught a glimpse of a dark figure slowly emerging from a flowerbed in front of a building.
Instinctively, she shone her flashlight and called out, “Tingting?”
Indeed, her daughter appeared in the light, wearing pajamas. Her hair was disheveled, her face pale, staring blankly at her mother, seemingly unaware of the bright light in her eyes.
Jiang Yushu quickly approached, first checking her daughter for injuries. Finding none, anger welled up inside her.
“Where did you go?” Jiang Yushu demanded, slapping her daughter’s shoulder repeatedly. “It’s so late, were you trying to scare me to death?”
Her daughter stumbled but neither defended herself nor resisted. She just stood there, head tilted, silent.
“Say something! Where were you?”
Her daughter remained motionless and mute.
Just then, lights came on in a ground-floor apartment of the adjacent building. A shirtless man scratched his chest as he approached the window, peering at them curiously.
Jiang Yushu gritted her teeth and grabbed her daughter’s hand. “Let’s go home!”
Once inside, Jiang Yushu noticed her daughter’s pajamas were covered in dust, cobwebs, and stains. Her slippers were caked with mud, emitting a foul odor.
Shocked, Jiang Yushu repeatedly demanded to know where her daughter had been. Jiang Ting remained silent, quietly removing her dirty clothes and shoes before retreating to her bedroom, and locking the door behind her.
Frustrated and confused, Jiang Yushu could only kick her daughter’s dirty clothes and shoes into the bathroom, soaking and scrubbing them furiously.
By the time she finished, it was 3 AM. Exhausted, Jiang Yushu intended to rest briefly on the sofa but ended up sleeping until dawn.
Though her daughter rose on time, she still showed no interest in talking. After Jiang Ting left for school, Jiang Yushu remained distracted, unable to focus on her account books. She set them aside to think.
Jiang Ting’s late-night excursion could have been to clear her mind or to meet someone. If she had overheard Jiang Yushu’s conversation with her ex-husband and felt troubled, she could have confided in her mother. Meeting someone seemed less likely. As far as Jiang Yushu knew, her daughter shouldn’t have any romantic interests yet. Moreover, her appearance suggested she had been somewhere cramped and filthy—hardly a place for a date.
No matter how she thought about it, Jiang Yushu couldn’t find a reason for her daughter’s strange behavior, which worried her even more. Her daughter was the flesh of her flesh, connected by blood and spirit. Now, an invisible hand had severed that connection. Terrifyingly, this hand had no shape, no scent, and no discernible origin. She only knew it all began on that rainy night.
Jiang Yushu opened a drawer and frowned at the newspaper-wrapped pencil box inside.
The long day finally passed. Jiang Ting had evening classes until 9 PM. At 8:30, Jiang Yushu arrived at the school gates, craning her neck to peer into the lit campus.
She wasn’t the first to arrive. An elderly man stood at the gate, smoking patiently. Judging by the cigarette butts at his feet, he had been there for at least half an hour.
The old man was thin, of average height, and dressed plainly, looking no different from a retired worker. He noticed Jiang Yushu’s gaze and turned to look at her. His piercing, hawk-like stare, completely at odds with his appearance, made Jiang Yushu shudder. She quickly forced a smile and looked away. The old man smiled back and continued smoking leisurely.
After 8:45, more parents began to gather at the school gates. Those who knew each other chatted in small groups. Having rarely picked up her usually well-behaved daughter, Jiang Yushu knew none of them and stood alone. The old man seemed equally disconnected from the others.
When the bell rang, there was a stir at the gates. Minutes later, the campus erupted with noise. Streams of students in identical blue and white uniforms poured out of the teaching building, forming a sea of movement. At the gates, the sea dispersed into rivulets flowing in all directions. Jiang Yushu found it difficult to spot her daughter among them. She stood on tiptoe, straining to find her in the crowd.
Long after the main wave had passed, with only a few stragglers left on campus, Jiang Ting finally emerged from the teaching building, head down and shoulders hunched. Jiang Yushu waved vigorously, but Jiang Ting lost in thought, kept staring at the ground. Only when Jiang Yushu was nearly in front of her did she notice.
“Mom?” Jiang Ting’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why are you here?”
“What, am I not allowed to come?” Jiang Yushu pretended to scowl. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m okay.” Suddenly, Jiang Ting acted playfully as usual. “Did you bring something tasty?”
“Let’s go home,” Jiang Yushu said, her mood lifting at her daughter’s familiar behavior. “I made braised beef for you.”
Jiang Ting linked arms with her mother, about to take a step when an elderly male voice suddenly spoke nearby.
“Excuse me, student.”
Mother and daughter turned simultaneously. Jiang Yushu recognized him as the man who had been smoking at the school gate earlier.
“Student, are there… no more students left in the school?” The old man pointed at the teaching building. “Have they all left?”
“They should have,” Jiang Ting glanced at the building’s entrance, where the security guard was closing the glass doors, preparing to lock up. “They’re about to lock the building.”
“Oh.” The old man nodded thoughtfully, smiling at Jiang Ting. “Thank you.”
His gaze and tone were gentle, but his eyes still held a scrutinizing look. Feeling uncomfortable, Jiang Yushu wanted to leave quickly with Jiang Ting. However, Jiang Ting’s helpful nature kicked in.
“Grandpa, are you here to pick up a child?” Jiang Ting asked. “Junior high or senior high? Which class?”
“Hmm? Senior high.” The old man hesitated slightly. “It’s alright, they might be in the restroom. I’ll wait a bit longer. Thank you.”
With that, the old man nodded slightly to Jiang Yushu. She nodded back nervously and quickly led Jiang Ting away.
On the way home, Jiang Ting remained mostly quiet, though more lively than the previous night. They ate dinner together and cleaned up. After helping her daughter with homework and preparing for bed, Jiang Yushu sat Jiang Ting down on the sofa and asked softly, “Tingting, what’s been bothering you lately? Can you tell Mom?”
Her daughter’s mood immediately sank. She hung her head, fidgeting with her fingers, her voice barely audible.
“Nothing.”
Jiang Yushu stroked her daughter’s head. “No matter what’s happening, you can always tell Mom. Don’t make me worry, okay?”
Jiang Ting said nothing, slowly lowering herself to rest her head on Jiang Yushu’s lap. Jiang Yushu felt her heart melting. She moved her hand from her daughter’s head to her back, stroking it repeatedly. Usually, Jiang Ting would fall asleep contentedly like a small cat. Today, however, she seemed preoccupied. Even without seeing her face, Jiang Yushu knew her eyes were open, staring motionlessly at some corner of the living room.
After a moment, Jiang Ting asked quietly, “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“If I suddenly disappeared, would you look for me?”
“Of course I would!” Jiang Yushu blurted out, then quickly sensed something was wrong. She sat up, trying to pull her daughter up. “What’s going on?”
Jiang Ting didn’t move but reached out to hug Jiang Yushu tightly.
Through identifying the remains, the identities of the three victims have been confirmed.
Victim #1: Du Yuan, female, 33 years old. She was an employee in the logistics department of the Textile Research Institute. Married with one child, she lived at 202, Unit 3, 168 Taishan Road, Heping District. Her husband reported her missing to the local police station on March 17th.
Victim #2: Yang Xinqian, female, 27 years old. She was a pediatric nurse at the Fourth People’s Hospital. Married with no children, she lived at 501, Unit 1, 87 Liutiao Lake Road, Kuanping District. Her mother reported her missing to the local police station on April 6th.
Victim #3: Sun Hui, female, 31 years old. She was a teacher at the First Municipal Kindergarten. Divorced with no children, she lived at 709, Building 4, 22 Xiaonan First Road, Beiguan District. Her mother reported her missing to the local police station on May 10th.
The autopsy reports show that all three bodies were highly decomposed, with early postmortem changes no longer visible. Analysis of stomach contents indicates they were killed within 10 hours after their last meal. Combined with the dates their families reported them missing, the order of the murders can be determined.
All three victims died from mechanical asphyxiation, likely caused by wire-like objects. They had all been sexually assaulted by a male with type A blood before death. Based on these findings, the Municipal Public Security Bureau has classified this as a serial murder case and decided to form a special task force to solve it.
“Sun Hui disappeared on a workday. The kindergarten closes around 5:30 PM. According to her mother and colleagues, Sun Hui usually rode her bicycle to and from work. Her typical route was to exit the First Kindergarten’s main gate, turn left onto Huimin Road, right onto Fengshou Avenue, then left onto Xiaonan First Road, continuing south…”
Wei Tai stood by the projector at the front of the conference room, tracing back and forth on a map of Beiguan District. A thick red line showed victim Sun Hui’s usual route home, which didn’t appear complicated.
“We experimented. It takes about 40 minutes for Sun Hui to get home—she disappeared during this time frame.”
After finishing his presentation, Wei Tai put away the slides and nervously looked at the task force members seated below.
Deputy Director Hu, in charge of criminal investigations, sighed and extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray. He then rubbed his face, revealing his exhaustion.
“Has Sun Hui’s bicycle been found?”
“No,” Wei Tai flipped open his notebook. “It’s a common women’s bicycle. We’ve checked several second-hand bicycle markets in the city but haven’t found it.”
“So victim #1 disappeared while returning from a dinner gathering, victim #2 while coming back from shopping, and victim #3 on her way home from work, correct?”
Wang Xianjiang, the deputy leader of the task force, nodded. “That’s right.”
“Different times, different routes. One took the bus, one rode a bicycle, and one unknown…” Deputy Director Hu muttered to himself. “No connection points?”
Wang Xianjiang glanced at Wei Tai, who understood immediately and overlaid the three slides.
The red lines on the map became intricate. Deputy Director Hu studied it for a moment, then frowned. “No connections?”
“None found yet,” Wang Xianjiang chose his words carefully. “We have very few leads at the moment.”
“Few? We have none at all,” Hu cursed. “What’s the next step?”
“We suspect the bodies were originally dumped in the sewers and washed into the Weihong Canal by the heavy rain,” Wang paused. “So we can’t be certain if there are only these three victims.”
“You want to enter the sewers?” Hu’s eyes widened. “Do you know how vast the underground network is?”
“We do. We consulted with the city planning department and considered factors like rainfall and flow rate, but we still can’t determine where the bodies were in the sewers before being washed out,” Wang’s expression darkened. “So we plan to go in and take a look.”
This was like searching for a needle in a haystack. First, they couldn’t be sure if they’d find the dumping site. Second, even if they did, the rain might have washed away valuable evidence. However, it was their only lead. Without trying, they’d be at a complete loss.
After a long silence, Hu couldn’t think of any alternatives. “Alright, proceed with this plan. But don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Carry on with neighborhood interviews and other avenues. Report any findings immediately.”
With that, Hu waved his hand, signaling the end of the meeting. The task force members dispersed to their respective duties. Wang Xianjiang remained seated, smoking.
Wei Tai turned off the projector and approached Wang cautiously, watching his expression. “Master, should we…”
“Get some gas masks,” Wang said, eyes lowered. “We’re going down tomorrow.”
Gu Hao sat on his bed, staring blankly at the table tennis world championship on TV, his mind far from the match.
The girl hadn’t gone to school. From the sounds coming from Room 101 over the past few days, she didn’t seem to be at home either. Where had she gone? Dropped out? Unlikely. The Su family’s financial situation wasn’t so dire that they couldn’t afford her education. Moreover, the girl’s grades had always been good. Dropping out in her second year of high school would be such a waste.
Illness or injury? If so, anything requiring hospitalization would be serious.
Could something even worse have happened? Gu Hao suddenly thought of the three female bodies washed out of the Weihong Canal. He quickly shook his head.
No, that’s impossible. If the child had been harmed, Room 101 would be holding a funeral, and the police would surely come knocking.
The TV suddenly erupted with the commentator’s cheers. Gu Hao snapped back to reality, seeing Kong Linghui place his paddle on the table, raising his fist and shouting.
They must have won. Gu Hao slowly stood up, picked up his teacup, took a sip of the now-cold tea, lit a cigarette, and shook the thermos.
He poured the remaining hot water into his cup and walked towards the door.
As he placed the filled iron kettle on the gas stove and turned it on, Gu Hao suddenly heard faint voices coming from Room 101. He immediately turned off the hissing gas and stood still, listening intently. However, the girl’s voice wasn’t among them; the only female voice was her mother’s.
Gu Hao thought for a moment, relit the stove, and walked to Room 101, knocking on the door.
The voices inside abruptly stopped, followed by footsteps approaching the door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Gu Hao cleared his throat. “Your neighbor from across the hall.”
The door opened, with Old Su’s wife behind him. The woman’s face still held traces of expectation, but the neighbor’s arrival seemed to greatly disappoint her. She nodded at Gu Hao and returned to the living room.
Old Su seemed surprised by his sudden visit. “Brother Gu, is something wrong?”
“Yes,” Gu Hao smiled. “Is your daughter home?”
“No,” Old Su’s eyes flickered momentarily. “Why?”
“Oh,” Gu Hao half-turned. “I’ll wait until she’s back then.”
“Wait,” Old Su frowned. “What do you need?”
“Well, my godson bought me a VCR, but it’s all in foreign languages,” Gu Hao shrugged helplessly. “I thought your daughter knows English, maybe she could help translate.”
Suddenly, a boy rushed out of the room, exclaiming excitedly, “I know, I know English too, Uncle Gu! I can help you translate!”
It was the Su family’s younger son. He wore a brightly colored backpack that looked odd, but his face was full of excitement.
“You don’t know shit!” Old Su scowled, pushing his son’s shoulder. “Go back inside!”
Gu Hao bent down, patting the boy’s head. “You’re too young. Where’s your sister?”
“I’m in school already!” The boy grabbed his backpack straps, puffing out his chest. “My sister’s not home.”
Gu Hao immediately asked, “Where did she go?”
“She went to stay with relatives,” the boy replied quickly. Old Su tried to cover his mouth, but it was too late.
“Get inside!” Old Su pushed the boy into the room. “Take off your backpack!”
He turned back to face Gu Hao, his expression asking if there was anything else. Before he could speak, Gu Hao asked, “She’s visiting relatives? When will she be back?”
“Not for a while,” Old Su hesitated. “Maybe after the college entrance exams.”
“Why?”
Old Su was growing impatient. “The admission scores are lower there.”
Gu Hao pressed on, “Where’s this great place?”
“Down south,” Old Su gripped the doorknob. “Brother Gu, I need to cook now.”
“Alright, carry on. Sorry to bother you.”
Old Su nodded hastily and quickly closed the door.
Gu Hao stared at the closed door for a few seconds before slowly walking back to his own home. He sat down on his bed, lit another cigarette, and watched another match on TV.
His impromptu investigation of the Su family hadn’t eased his doubts at all. On the contrary, the questions in his mind grew larger. The Su family’s behavior was very unusual. They seemed to be waiting for something, worrying about something. At the same time, something made them, especially the young boy, excited. All of this must be related to the missing girl. Although Gu Hao didn’t know the connection, one thing was certain—Old Su was lying.
Gu Hao spent the entire afternoon considering various possibilities, only to dismiss them one by one. When his thoughts became too troublesome, he laughed at himself. After being a security officer for half his life, he was used to assuming the worst. Yet here he was, an anxious neighbor while the girl’s parents seemed unconcerned.
In the end, he was just bored.
Gu Hao defiantly walked to the refrigerator. It was evening, and he was hungry. Instead of worrying about matters that didn’t concern him, he might as well cook something good to treat himself.
He took out a piece of pork belly and some potatoes and put on a pot of rice. Gu Hao busied himself in the kitchen. He cut the pork belly into small pieces, caramelized some sugar in an iron pot, and added the meat to stir-fry. As the rich aroma spread, Gu Hao hummed a tune, deftly throwing in scallions, ginger, star anise, and Sichuan peppercorns, then adding broth and covering the pot. Amidst the bubbling sounds, he picked up a potato and slowly began peeling it.
Just then, the door to Room 101 opened. Old Su walked out first, sniffed the air, and looked at Gu Hao standing in the kitchen.
“Cooking, Brother Gu?”
“Yes,” Gu Hao pointed at the stove with his knife. “Braised pork with potatoes. Want some?”
“No, no,” Old Su waved his hands hurriedly. “You carry on.”
The young boy appeared behind Old Su, his voice shrill with excitement: “We’re eating out today!”
“Oh?” Gu Hao raised an eyebrow. “What’s the special occasion?”
“No occasion,” Old Su smiled wryly. “It’s all because of him making a fuss.”
The woman also came out, carefully locking the door. Her face still held an undisguisable sadness, but she managed a forced smile at Gu Hao.
“Well, we’re off then.”
Amid the boy’s constant urging, the family of three quickly disappeared beyond the building entrance. Gu Hao tossed the half-peeled potato into a basin of water, leaned against the stove, knife in hand, watching the bubbling meat broth in the pot. His mood sank once again.
A simple meal of rice and meat. The rice was glossy and soft, the braised pork tender, and the potatoes, saturated with meat juices, melted in the mouth. Yet Gu Hao couldn’t enjoy it. Sitting at the table, holding his porcelain bowl, he would eat a few bites then pause to catch his breath, as if a stone weighed on his chest. Halfway through this sighing meal, it began to rain outside.
At first, it was just a drizzle, but within minutes, the raindrops intensified, pattering against the window panes. Annoyed by the sound, Gu Hao set down his chopsticks, lit a cigarette, and sat at the table, staring blankly out the window.
It wasn’t that he disliked rain, but recently, every rainfall had brought bad news. He thought again of the case Wei Tai was working on. He wondered if those three unfortunate women had been returned to their families. Those who had waited so long, even if mentally prepared, would surely feel devastated upon seeing the decomposed bodies. Which would be easier for them to accept – a missing person or a confirmed death?
Gu Hao extinguished his cigarette.
Probably the former, as it at least left a glimmer of hope.
Hope, seemingly within reach, yet so distant.
Would he see that girl again?
Today’s rain had washed away news of her; washed away two overturned plates; washed away two fried eggs; washed away the wildflowers on the doorknob. Gu Hao didn’t know what all this meant for his life. A man who had lived for 60 years, been to war, solved cases, met countless people, and weathered many storms. The appearance and disappearance of a girl shouldn’t matter much. The memories in the kitchen weren’t exactly unforgettable. Yet, Gu Hao could still clearly remember the girl crying with her hands over her eyes.
Perhaps this is how people meet. Without warning, without notice. Sometimes, even without goodbyes.
He sighed. Wherever this child was, he hoped she had books to read and food to eat – in that real or imaginary South.
The rain outside gradually became a monotonous melody. The evening breeze brought a hint of damp coolness. Gu Hao’s eyelids began to droop. He looked at the uncleared dishes on the table, hesitated for a moment, then stood up and walked to his bed. Almost immediately, a wave of drowsiness overcame him. He fell into a deep sleep without even taking off his shoes.
When he woke again, the sky was tinged with a faint bluish-white. Morning stiffness made Gu Hao struggle for a while before he could get up. His feet, confined in shoes all night, had begun to swell. He sat on the edge of the bed, massaging his legs and shaking his heavy head.
He hadn’t slept well, dreaming almost the entire night. The content was blurry, but he remembered someone calling him. As his mind gradually cleared, that voice emerged with fragments of the dream.
It was the girl from across the hall, barefoot, covered in mud and water, standing at the door calling him “Uncle Gu.”