Ma Tuwen staggered into his residential compound. Calling it a “compound” was being generous—this rented place was a gathering spot for all sorts of outsiders in Chongqing and a key monitoring area for the local police station. Over the past few years, the police had indeed achieved notable results here: apprehending four fugitives, mediating over ten romantic disputes, and dealing with countless petty thefts that were practically routine.

Two hooligans playing cards sat at the entrance, their faces covered with card-marking strips. One looked up and asked: “Brother Ma, do you have a concert tonight?”

Ma Tuwen replied: “Yes, tonight I’m singing nostalgic classics, ‘Shanghai Beach’!”

The man grumbled as he threw down a card: “What terrible luck, a flush!”

Not interested in actual conversation with Ma Tuwen, who didn’t take offense but continued humming the tune of “Rushing Waves” as he walked in.

Ma Tuwen was a bar singer, living hand to mouth, with dreams as his sole sustenance, without even a regular venue. He had a beer promoter girlfriend named Ba Mei. They earned roughly the same, but Ba Mei always acted superior, nagging him whenever they met about his lack of ambition and failure to be a proper man.

Damn it, don’t you understand dreams? Dreams! Ma Tuwen thought to himself that sooner or later, he would dump Ba Mei.

Near the entrance, a black Hummer H2 was parked on the nearest open space. The vehicle was already eye-catching on its own, but with a row of hunting lights mounted on the roof, it resembled a crouching, dangerous beast.

Ma Tuwen felt a twinge of envy and snorted: “What’s so great about it?”

It did seem pretty great because the next moment, he suddenly changed his mind. He took out his phone and began taking selfies with the Hummer—sometimes looking up, sometimes down, and occasionally mimicking the poses of world supermodels, pulling his vest open a bit as if exposing his dirty, blackened white undershirt was somehow sexy and impressive.

Then he posted on WeChat Moments: “Driving a Hummer is nothing special.”

He made sure to tag his girlfriend, Ba Mei.

Just as he was feeling smug, there was a sudden jingling sound in front of him. A set of car keys with a Vajra Pestle charm dangled right before his face, and he heard Luo Ren’s voice.

“To know what it’s like to drive it, you need to take the keys and sit inside.”

Ma Tuwen felt quite unlucky—the one time he tried to show off, and he got caught red-handed.

He glanced sideways at Luo Ren.

Luo Ren was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, handsome and tall, wearing a black jacket and military boots. He appeared casually relaxed with a hint of a smile, but his muscular forearms exposed by his half-rolled sleeves and the occasional sharp glint in his eyes made him seem like his car—a cheetah ready to pounce at any moment.

Ma Tuwen said sourly, “Can you stop mocking me? We’ve known each other since we were naked kids, starting from the same place. Look at the gap between us now—it’s against the natural order.”

Luo Ren smiled: “When you have a concert at the Bird’s Nest Stadium, I’ll only be able to watch by buying a ticket. That’s what you call a gap.”

Ma Tuwen immediately felt better.

Ma Tuwen’s room was a mess, with records scattered everywhere and a trail of beer cans on the floor. He accidentally kicked one, sending it rolling noisily.

Luo Ren sat down on the sofa and opened a beer for himself, not wasting words: “How was the meeting today?”

Ma Tuwen pulled up a stool to sit in front of Luo Ren, eager to vent: “Meeting? Let me tell you, it was a room full of lunatics.”

“A Qing Dynasty old man called Wan Fenghuo, a droopy-faced middle-aged woman, Cen Chunjiao, and a sarcastic man called Li Tan…”

Ma Tuwen mimicked Li Tan’s voice: “Fake, fake.”

“And there was a woman called Mu Dai. You know what she had on her wrist? One of those cloth cat-head wristbands. How childish is that? Her mental age can’t be more than eighteen.”

Luo Ren asked casually: “Where are they staying?”

“All of them followed Wan Fenghuo to Bashu Villa, their partner hotel.” Ma Tuwen suddenly remembered something. “But that story was creepy. Hey, Luo Ren, that story was fake, right?”

Luo Ren didn’t directly answer: “Tell me about the meeting process, from the moment you entered. What did everyone say? How did they behave? Be as detailed as possible.”

Fortunately, the events had just happened, so his impressions were still fresh. Ma Tuwen recounted everything from beginning to end, then repeated his earlier question: “Hey, Luo Ren, that story was fake, right?”

“If it was fake, why would I pay for it?”

“So it’s… real?” Ma Tuwen found it increasingly implausible. “How could someone’s foot suddenly disappear? And that person threading fishing line through people—how perverted…”

Luo Ren held his car keys in front of him: “Really don’t want to drive it?”

Ma Tuwen’s train of thought was abruptly interrupted, and it took him a moment to understand what Luo Ren meant: “No, I don’t. Hey, are you even listening to me? That story…”

“Then I’m leaving.”

Li Tan and Mu Dai were staying next door to each other. Due to their minor disagreement that morning, he seemed quite displeased with Mu Dai, constantly wearing a sour expression. Mu Dai couldn’t be bothered with him, thinking a man in his fifties should have more magnanimity.

Toward evening, Mu Dai heard the door next door open. Through the peephole, she saw Li Tan leave. After waiting a few seconds, she followed him out. At the villa entrance, she encountered Wan Fenghuo and gave him a slight nod.

Wan Fenghuo didn’t recognize her for a long moment. After a while, he went to the front desk and asked the receptionist: “Was that girl the one I brought in today?”

The receptionist hadn’t seen her: “Did she come from the right side of the first floor? If so, then yes, only your guests are staying there.”

Wan Fenghuo inhaled sharply, recalling that when he had just seen Mu Dai, she was wearing a loose black top over a black tight camisole, with black skinny jeans and black ankle boots. The only bright spot on her entire body was a thin silver chain around her neck, with what looked like a skull pendant.

Thinking back to her youthful, vibrant appearance that morning, Wan Fenghuo was bewildered: How could someone’s clothing style be so… polarized?

Li Tan hadn’t gone far—he was at a nearby open-air food stall. He ordered two dishes and a bottle of alcohol, drinking alone. It would look stupid to just stand nearby and watch, so Mu Dai pretended to go for dinner and then feigned a chance encounter: “Mr. Li, you’re having dinner too?”

Ignoring Li Tan’s eye roll, she brazenly sat down across from him and smiled while making conversation: “Mr. Li, how did you become interested in the Luoma Lake case?”

Li Tan countered: “You’re so young, how did you become interested?”

“I’m not interested at all. My aunt sent me here. She said that the professor couple’s surname was Li, and the male Professor Li was once her teacher.”

Someone behind them finished eating and was leaving, stumbling slightly as they passed by Li Tan, who instinctively reached out to steady them. Just as Li Tan was about to respond to Mu Dai, she suddenly slammed her chopsticks on the table and shouted sternly: “Hand it over!”

Li Tan was startled. The person who had just been steadied by Li Tan trembled and turned to look at Mu Dai.

Li Tan suddenly understood and hurriedly reached into his inner pocket, only to find emptiness.

His wallet was gone.

Mu Dai enunciated each word: “I’m talking to you. Hand it over.”

The chatter in the food stall suddenly quieted. The cook, somewhat afraid of trouble, nervously moved his lips. The person, embarrassed and angry, seemed determined to deny everything: “What are you talking about? Are you crazy?”

Mu Dai abruptly stood up. For some reason, the person became a bit timid but didn’t want to show weakness. Just as the standoff was building, a cool voice came from outside the food stall: “Just give it to her, give it to her.”

It was the fat man from the cable car.

If their profession had an organization, the fat man would probably be considered a manager. The person hesitated for a moment, then pulled out a black wallet and angrily threw it toward Mu Dai, putting some force into it, intending for her to miss the catch or have to stoop to pick it up.

Unexpectedly, Mu Dai casually caught it with one hand and asked: “You didn’t take any bills, did you?”

As she spoke, she opened the wallet and examined its contents.

A professional can tell with just a glance. Seeing Mu Dai’s wallet-catching gesture, the person’s expression changed slightly. When she used the term “take bills”—insider jargon—he suddenly understood why the fat man had said “give it to her.” After standing awkwardly for a moment, he snorted coldly and walked away.

“Taking bills” referred to thieves who, when returning a stolen wallet, would keep some of the money. For instance, if the wallet had eight hundred in it when stolen, it might have five hundred when returned. With such a short interval between theft and return, some victims might not notice.

In reality, Mu Dai couldn’t possibly know how much money was in Li Tan’s wallet. Her questioning and checking were somewhat of a bluff.

After this incident, Li Tan’s view of Mu Dai suddenly changed, and his face broke into a smile: “There wasn’t much money in the wallet. Even if he had ‘taken bills,’ I wouldn’t have lost much.”

Mu Dai said nothing. She closed the wallet and pushed it back to Li Tan, then asked: “That photo inside, is that your… friend?”

Li Tan knew she was referring to the somewhat yellowed black-and-white photo in the wallet. Although the photo showed a young woman, based on the timeline, she would now be approaching forty. Li Tan nodded, tacitly agreeing.

“This woman, named Li Yaqing, was the daughter of Professor Li and his wife from the Luoma Lake case. She was also my… fiancée, I suppose.”

Mu Dai’s expression was one of disbelief. Li Tan felt a bitter taste in his heart: “For over twenty years, I’ve been obsessed with this case, largely because of personal attachment. Just like your aunt, who was connected to Professor Li through their teacher-student relationship.”

Mu Dai wanted to laugh but couldn’t.

Connected through a teacher-student relationship? Before seeing that photo, she might have believed it, but now she didn’t think so.

The Li Yaqing in that photo was the spitting image of a young… Aunt Hong.

Li Tan said something else, and Mu Dai snapped out of her daze: “What?”

“I said, you and your aunt have both been deceived by that Cen Chunjiao. I have conclusive evidence that that woman… has lied.”