To meet Ma Chao in his “best state,” Cao Yanhua was busy in front of the bathroom mirror early in the morning.

Who knows where he found the clothes—baggy jeans, a T-shirt with a skull on it, and a fierce-looking blue dragon on his chubby, dark left forearm. Yi Wansan curiously reached out to touch it: “Brother Cao, you have a tattoo?”

Cao Yanhua slapped his hand away: “I just put it on with transfer paper. Don’t rub it off.”

Then he squeezed some mousse onto his hand, making his hair slick, as the old saying goes, so slippery that even flies would slide off. He combed it repeatedly with a small comb, and finally, with a ripping sound, tore a hole in the collar of his T-shirt. Full of murderous intent, he asked Yi Wansan: “How do I look?”

Yi Wansan frowned. To be honest, he thought this outfit was a bit outdated—it should be the hooligan style of the ’80s and ’90s. Nowadays, they should at least be going for a “wash, cut, and blow-dry” look.

But whatever. For a hooligan, substance matters more than appearance.

So they set off. Yan Hongsha stayed with Mu Dai at the hotel, waiting for news, while Luo Ren went to find Song Tie.

Ma Chao was a high school senior, a typical example of someone who constantly skipped classes to hang out. Cao Yanhua and Yi Wansan went to the school gate to ask about his whereabouts. The old gateman looked at them with disgust and irritably said: “Where else but Degenerate Street!”

Degenerate Street…

It was a nearby long street lined with internet cafes, game centers, restaurants, hair salons, and book rental shops—a gathering place for young troublemakers, a paradise for truants, and a place long detested by the school authorities.

Around noon, Cao Yanhua entered Degenerate Street with a gloomy gaze. In his imagination, such an entrance should have attracted everyone’s attention and caused a stir.

However, it didn’t. People on the street continued doing whatever they were doing.

Yi Wansan had a photo of Ma Chao. After walking up and down the street, he came back with information: Ma Chao was in a nearby noodle shop.

At the entrance, Ma Chao was sitting at a table near the edge, waiting for his noodles. There were many empty seats nearby, but Cao Yanhua boldly went over and sat down directly opposite Ma Chao, making quite a commotion—the folding table shook three times.

Ma Chao raised his eyelids to look at him.

Cao Yanhua stared directly back at him, without any fear.

Ma Chao was puzzled. He looked around at the other tables, then back at Cao Yanhua: “Uncle, do you need something?”

Not far away, Yi Wansan, who was about to sit down, nearly missed his seat.

Cao Yanhua was furious and wanted to stomp his feet, but constrained by his “identity,” he suppressed his anger. He rested his arm on the table, directing his “tattoo” toward Ma Chao: “Young brother, I want to talk to you about something.”

Ma Chao said, “Talk about what? I don’t know you.”

Cao Yanhua became angry and slapped the table: “You’re so young, why is your language so filthy?”

Ma Chao shrugged indifferently and lowered his head to fiddle with his phone.

Cao Yanhua felt it necessary to speak some harsh words as intimidation: “Behave yourself. Let me tell you, do you know who I am? If I’m not happy, I’ll find someone to beat you to death.”

Ma Chao chuckled, tossed his phone aside, leaned over, and no longer called him “Uncle.”

“You punk, you think I scare easily? I know every corner of Nantian. Your face clearly shows you’re an outsider, and you’re threatening to beat me to death!”

As he spoke, he suddenly stood up and grabbed a plastic stool, about to smash it on Cao Yanhua’s head. Cao Yanhua instinctively ducked.

The stool didn’t come down; it stopped in mid-air. Ma Chao snorted: “Such a coward!”

Cao Yanhua’s anger flared, mainly because he had lost face. He remembered that he had learned some fighting skills and couldn’t lose his dignity.

He also slapped the table and stood up: “You want to fight?”

From behind, someone spoke: “Where? Where’s the troublemaker?”

Ma Chao said, “Here.”

Cao Yanhua sensed trouble. He turned around and was instantly dumbfounded.

Ma Chao had been fiddling with his phone earlier, probably calling for backup in a group chat. His companions were all over the street—playing games, getting haircuts, eating—not a small number. The first two who came in were young, with hair dyed bright yellow like erupting volcanoes. Several more were walking toward them, with Ma Chao continuously waving to them.

The restaurant was already small, and with several people coming in, it immediately became cramped.

Someone began pushing Cao Yanhua: “Where did this fat guy come from? Are you sick?”

Someone else brushed against his arm: “Oh, a blue dragon… why is it fading…”

He was poked from left and right, and Cao Yanhua couldn’t keep up: “Let’s talk reasonably, don’t get physical… I’m talking to you. Do you want me to call the police, huh?”

As they were pushing and arguing, suddenly there was a loud crash—someone had dropped a bowl.

Ceramic pieces are scattered. Several people turned around to see Yi Wansan.

He was looking in their direction, specifically at Cao Yanhua: “Can’t even eat a meal in peace. Are you going to let people eat or not, huh!”

While speaking, he came over with a fierce expression, rudely pushing aside the person standing at the outer edge: “Move.”

“Fatty, I’m talking to you. Are you going to let people eat or not?”

Before finishing his words, he reached out and pushed Cao Yanhua’s head, causing him to stagger: “You… you…”

Yi Wansan kicked him: “Get out!”

Seeing that Cao Yanhua wasn’t leaving, he made a move to lift the folding table. Cao Yanhua was startled, but inwardly he had somewhat figured out the situation. He pushed open the restaurant door and quickly left.

Yi Wansan dropped the folding table: he was just putting on a show. He had tried the weight earlier—it would be quite difficult to actually lift it.

Turning around, he saw Ma Chao and his friends still looking at him. Yi Wansan dusted his hands and said: “What are you looking at? Go do whatever you were doing. I’m eating.”

After speaking, he returned to his seat. Ma Chao’s companions, seeing that there was no more drama, called to each other to leave. Before leaving, they didn’t forget to warn Ma Chao: “If he comes back, we’ll grab our tools!”

The shop owner, who had been hiding in the back kitchen, only came out to serve food after the commotion was over.

Yi Wansan had ordered tomato and egg noodles with gravy—bright red and yellow, quite appetizing. He lowered his head and slurped, noticing from the corner of his eye that Ma Chao had come to sit with him, but he pretended not to see.

Ma Chao tried to start a conversation: “Brother, you’re quite fierce.”

Yi Wansan looked up: “People like that…”

He unhurriedly slurped his noodles, then took a napkin to wipe the soup from the corner of his mouth: “Just using their bulk to intimidate people. My temper has improved a lot these days. In the past, I would have shoved the noodle bowl onto his head.”

Ma Chao seemed disbelieving, looking him up and down: “Brother, are you good at fighting?”

Yi Wansan said, “Not good at fighting. With my build, I couldn’t withstand three punches. But one thing—I’m not afraid of death.”

As he spoke, he patted his left upper arm: “This was broken before. The other guy was a head taller than I, with a bigger build. But I still chased him down half a street with my dangling arm, clutching a brick. If he had fought me to the death, I would have been finished. But he didn’t dare.”

Ma Chao was full of respect. He fumbled in his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes: “Brother, let’s be friends… From your accent, you’re not a local?”

Yi Wansan gave him a sideways glance, until Ma Chao felt uncomfortable, then took a cigarette and put it in his mouth: “No, just passing through.”

…

Cao Yanhua was waiting at the pre-arranged place, not only bored but also having to endure the dust and exhaust fumes from passing cars. The shiny hair oil on his head quickly gathered a layer of dust, making him look prematurely gray at a glance.

It wasn’t until sunset that Yi Wansan finally arrived.

Cao Yanhua complained: “Why did it take so long?”

Yi Wansan rotated his neck and said, “Got a massage. To get information, of course, I had to establish rapport first.”

“Did you get anything?”

Yi Wansan said, “I know how old he is.”

Cao Yanhua felt complex emotions. He always envied inappropriate things at inappropriate times, like now.

He envied that Yi Wansan looked more like a hooligan and was better at dealing with hooligans than he was.

Having been around each other for so long, Yi Wansan had somewhat guessed this: “Fat Cao, were you the boss in Liberation Monument before?”

Cao Yanhua fell silent.

He used to be a thief. Thieves value being low-key, making people feel comfortable around them so they lower their guard. How could he have really been loud and intimidating, scaring everyone away?

He had just assumed that to deal with tough hooligans, one had to be even tougher—that’s how it was portrayed on TV. Little did he know that times had changed, and today’s hooligans no longer followed conventional patterns.

Yi Wansan said, “We’re here to help the little boss lady gather information, not to start a fight. From my years of experience, I can tell you that the highest level of being a hooligan, as I’ve concluded, is like water.”

Cao Yanhua didn’t understand: “What?”

“You have to be like water—adapting to circumstances, taking advantage of the situation, capable of assuming any shape, adapting to all environments. If he cooperates, you’re like hot spring water, soaking him until he tells you everything. If he’s going to fight you to the death, you also need to become a raging flood, washing away his ancestral grave.”

Cao Yanhua said, “No wonder among the five elements of the Phoenix Luan Button—metal, wood, water, fire, earth—you’re water.”

Yi Wansan sneered: “I was driven out of the village at such a young age. If I weren’t smooth in handling everything, could I have survived until today? I just speak differently to different people—humans talk to humans, ghosts talk to ghosts. Step back when facing trouble, charge forward when there’s an advantage. Others might not appreciate this behavior, but honestly, it’s sustainable. Fat Cao, you’re like you have dirt filling your head—solid when hit, like a mound of earth.”

Hearing the words “mound of earth,” Cao Yanhua was startled, taking a while to recover.

He said: “Then my Brother Luo… being metal, is like a knife?”

Yi Wansan said: “That fits too, but too much is not good. ‘The overly rigid breaks easily’—you must have heard that.”

Cao Yanhua really couldn’t stand his pontificating manner: “Then is my little sister Master like a piece of wood?”

Yi Wansan hesitated for a moment, then said: “That depends on the kind of wood. Some are hollow from insect bites, others grow into trees that need two people’s arms to encircle them. Do you know that some woods are harder than iron? Like ironwood, twice as hard as ordinary steel. Looking at our little boss lady, I think she hasn’t yet taken her final form.”

Cao Yanhua, going one by one, wanted to include Yan Hongsha in the questioning, but Yi Wansan, while talking about Mu Dai, remembered the main issue and said: “Fatty, the situation doesn’t look good.”

Yi Wansan had chatted happily with Ma Chao, who was in high spirits and quite “candid,” saying: “You might think I look fierce, but when the police came to find me the other day, I was as obedient as a schoolboy—almost went up to light their cigarettes.”

Since they were on the topic, without waiting for Yi Wansan to ask, Ma Chao naturally told the whole story.

“I have a deep impression of that woman. My buddy told me there were two new women at the restaurant, and they weren’t bad-looking. I wanted to check them out because I had just broken up with my girlfriend…”

“I noticed her particularly. She looked better than the younger one, but for me, she was too old…”

“Later, she had a conflict with a customer and was quite fierce. I didn’t like it that much. Girls should be gentle, gentleness is better…”

“The police also asked me if I might have mistaken her identity in the dark. That’s impossible. Our bridge has lights at night. Besides, I’m not stupid. Someone died—it’s a serious matter. I wouldn’t randomly accuse someone and frame them…”

According to Ma Chao, his group of hooligans had a small community with a name: “BM”—Braveman, the brave ones.

That night, Zhang Tong had finally mustered the courage to challenge the Prancing Horse Sculpture. To welcome a new “Braveman,” they especially ate late-night snacks and drank beer at the open-air stall by the bridge.

Until midnight, when the stall closed and his buddies gradually left, only he and Zhang Tong remained—Zhang Tong was the star of the night, too excited and drunk to leave. Being a small leader, Ma Chao had to accompany him.

But later, he too became very tired and patted Zhang Tong’s shoulder, saying: “Enough, let’s go.”

Zhang Tong stood up wobbly, his hand on his pants zipper, saying: “Wait, I need to take a piss. Where’s the toilet?”

Then, he climbed onto the bridge railing with his hands and feet.

This was something Ma Chao and his friends had done before—getting drunk and standing at high places to urinate into the city moat.

He turned his back and said, “Hurry up.”

It was at this moment that Zhang Tong let out a scream.

Ma Chao quickly turned around.

When mentioning it to Yi Wansan, he was still horrified: “Unexpected. No matter how many crime films you’ve watched, when it happens right in front of you, your legs still go weak with fear.”

In that split second of turning around, he saw Zhang Tong falling off the bridge, while the woman standing on the bridge still maintained her pushing posture.

“It wasn’t rescuing, it was pushing. I can distinguish between pushing and pulling. Then, she turned her head, and that face—I saw it.”

“She saw me, too. At that moment, I thought, ‘This is bad, she might kill me to silence me.’ So I turned and ran. When I reached the bridge head, in my panic, I even crashed into an electric bicycle.”

Yi Wansan’s heart stirred, remembering that Luo Ren had mentioned another eyewitness named Song Tie.

But as Ma Chao continued, he knew it wasn’t Song Tie.

“It was a woman, around forty years old. She immediately cursed me for not watching where I was going. If I hadn’t been frightened out of my wits at that time, I definitely wouldn’t have let her off.”

“But it was karma. After running for a while, I looked back and saw her fall at the other end of the bridge.”

Yi Wansan bent down, picked up a small stone, and drew lines on the ground to illustrate to Cao Yanhua.

“This is the bridge. The left side leads into town, the right side leads to the countryside. The open-air stall is located near the right side, which is also where Zhang Tong fell from the bridge. In his shock, Ma Chao ran to the left, where at the bridge head he collided with a woman on an electric bicycle. That woman was heading to the countryside. She rode her bicycle across the bridge and then fell at the right side of the bridge head.”

Cao Yanhua understood: “So at that time, there was another eyewitness?”

“Song Tie can’t be counted as an on-scene witness; he encountered the little boss lady leaving later. Before Song Tie, there was this woman. The police don’t seem to have found her yet. I think her testimony is crucial.”

Cao Yanhua nodded: “My Brother Luo previously suspected that Song Tie and Ma Chao had colluded… But this woman who appeared out of nowhere couldn’t possibly know them. If we find her first, we can ask what she saw on the bridge. If even she saw my little sister Master…”

Cao Yanhua suddenly shivered.

He looked at Yi Wansan: “Brother San, why do I feel, the more I investigate, that my little sister Master was actually on the bridge at that time?”

Yi Wansan didn’t respond, but his eyes told Cao Yanhua that he had the same feeling.