One month later, in Siem Reap, at dusk.
Yi Sa had just bought packed seafood fried noodles from a roadside stall, hanging them on her motorcycle’s handlebar. As she rode away, the plastic bag containing the meal box swayed back and forth.
At the intersection, she stopped for a red light and only restarted when it turned green. She had barely moved a few steps when someone walked onto the road absent-mindedly, heading straight for her motorcycle as if in a daze.
Yi Sa slammed on the brakes. The person finally came to his senses and hastily backed away, only to have another motorcycle brush past him from behind. Caught in an awkward situation, he couldn’t move forward or backward, appearing quite flustered. After a moment, he apologized to Yi Sa whose path he had blocked.
Yi Sa looked at his face: “Long Song?”
Long Song was startled: “You know me?”
Yi Sa lifted her helmet visor.
“…Oh, Miss Yi.”
Being this distracted and disoriented didn’t suit a hotel manager’s image.
Yi Sa pulled her bike to the side: “Didn’t you see the traffic light?”
Long Song replied embarrassedly: “I was lost in thought and wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.”
If it had been a stranger, Yi Sa would probably have shown her displeasure, but she had met Long Song several times and considered him an acquaintance, so naturally, it was different.
Moreover, she suddenly thought of Zong Hang.
The image of him waving goodbye to her with his head tilted back and face swollen suddenly became vivid in her mind.
Yi Sa casually asked: “Off work so early?”
It didn’t seem like quitting time yet, and this intersection was some distance from Angkor Grand Hotel. Long Song’s presence here at this hour likely meant he had left work early.
Long Song replied sheepishly: “No, I came for an interview.”
Interview?
Yi Sa was taken aback, only now noticing that Long Song had just come out of a hotel on the roadside.
The hotel looked decent enough, though its scale and grandeur fell short of Angkor Grand Hotel. In Yi Sa’s view, this was a step down: “What, your old employer not paying enough?”
Long Song gave a bitter smile: “Nothing like that.”
After a pause, he added: “After what happened, how could I stay?”
Yi Sa was puzzled: “What happened?”
Long Song was surprised: “You don’t know?”
Zong Hang’s disappearance has been big news recently. Wherever there were Chinese people, there was discussion about it. Later, Zong Bishing’s million-dollar reward pushed the story to new heights, and only in the past few days had things started to die down.
He had assumed everyone knew about this.
Yi Sa said: “I haven’t been in Cambodia lately, so I’m not too clear about what happened here.”
After sending away Ding Chi from Fu Village, she headed north along the river, collecting rent and patrolling, mostly in areas with poor communication. She had just returned from the Cambodia-Thailand border that afternoon.
Long Song explained to Yi Sa: “Our hotel’s Chinese owner’s son disappeared near the Old Market area over a month ago. Still hasn’t been found…”
Yi Sa felt something was off: “Your hotel’s Chinese owner’s son?”
Wasn’t Zong Hang also the Chinese owner’s son? How many sons did this Chinese owner have?
Long Song nodded: “I asked you to look for him before, remember? The one who was beaten up.”
Yi Sa’s heart skipped a beat: “Zong Hang?”
Long Song nodded.
How did she know Zong Hang’s name? Had he mentioned it to her? Maybe – after the incident, he had been in such a daze, confused about many things.
Yi Sa confirmed with him: “He hasn’t returned?”
“No, everyone thought it was a kidnapping. Mr. Zong announced publicly that this was his only son and he’d pay any ransom amount, but surprisingly, no kidnappers ever called. The embassy got involved, and the police took it very seriously, but there’s been no news…”
Something wasn’t right, Yi Sa’s mind was racing.
This shouldn’t be happening. She had given Zong Hang very clear instructions, essentially laying out a path for him: he just needed to ask passing people for help to return to Siem Reap. Most locals were quite simple and kind – could he have messed up even this final step?
Long Song noticed her distraction: “Miss Yi?”
Yi Sa collected herself, covering with a smile: “So is that why Mr. Zong fired you?”
Long Song smiled bitterly: “No, the boss and his family are very good people. They didn’t blame me at all. They stayed here for about half a month, but because Mrs. Zong was overcome with grief and her health deteriorated, they temporarily returned to China… I just couldn’t stay anymore. They sent their child here and called so many times asking me to take care of him, and this is how I managed it… I feel so guilty…”
His eyes grew moist, and he couldn’t continue.
Initially, when Zong Bishing and Tong Hong rushed over that night, he had prepared his defense. Yes, he was Zong Hang’s mentor, but such an unexpected disaster couldn’t be blamed on him.
But after understanding what happened, the Zong couple didn’t blame him at all. Tong Hong’s eyes were constantly swollen from crying, and she even pleaded with him: “Long Song, you’re a local. Please see if there are any private channels or any people with connections who might be able to help us find information. Money is no object, just don’t let our Hang Hang suffer out there…”
It would have been better if they had blamed him – at least then he could have defended himself.
His vision blurred. Through the passing traffic noise, he heard Yi Sa ask: “Haven’t eaten yet?”
Long Song nodded.
Yi Sa handed him the fried noodles hanging from her motorcycle handlebar.
Long Song took it absent-mindedly, not knowing what it was, catching a whiff of the aroma escaping from the loosely sealed bag.
Yi Sa said: “I don’t think you should resign. You’re Mr. Zong’s partner and someone he trusts. He’s temporarily back in China, his son’s situation is still unresolved, and there’s no other capable person here – everything depends on you to follow up and handle things here.”
“If you feel you’ve let them down, you should try your best to help. Right now, he’s overwhelmed with family matters. Even if you can’t find Zong Hang, managing the hotel well would help ease his worries. But because of your guilt, you’re running away, and now he has to spend energy recruiting someone new.”
She started her motorcycle again: “To make an inappropriate comparison, if you killed someone and want to atone, you should first take care of their widows and orphans. Running away, even if it’s to build temples and save people, doesn’t make sense.”
With that, she revved the engine and sped away.
Originally, she was supposed to check on the business at the Tuk-tuk Bar.
But when she reached the Old Market area, Yi Sa stopped again.
Zong Hang hadn’t returned to Siem Reap.
She had asked Chen Tu to take Zong Hang to “as remote a place as possible” – could something have gone wrong at that stage, causing Zong Hang to jump from the frying pan into the fire? Where exactly had Chen Tu taken him?
Yi Sa took out her phone to look for Chen Tu’s number.
Honestly, if she hadn’t run into Long Song, she would have almost forgotten about this matter.
She hadn’t taken Zong Hang’s rescue seriously: it was just a casual favor. She was a water ghost, everything had been done flawlessly, and Chen Tu was an old hand – from his occasional reminiscences, even smuggling people across military-guarded rivers had been a piece of cake back in the day. How hard could it be to help someone reach shore?
Having Chen Tu escort Zong Hang was, in her mind, as simple as arranging care for Wu Gui – just a matter of making arrangements. She had never asked about the follow-up, and Chen Tu had never contacted her.
In their world: you only make phone calls when something goes wrong.
The contact list was too long, and as she kept scrolling up, she grew increasingly anxious: they were both busy people, one with unpredictable whereabouts collecting rent everywhere, the other devoted to running his clinic, handling goods and medicine, dealing with community disputes. They had saved each other’s numbers just in case, but neither thought of the other normally. Their last call was from who knows when.
Finally, she found it.
Yi Sa pressed the dial.
Chen Tu’s phone was switched off.
Yi Sa tried to convince herself this was normal: most of Chen Tu’s medicine came from questionable sources, his suppliers were tightly organized, and transaction procedures were strictly controlled – having his phone switched off wasn’t particularly unusual.
She put away her phone, slowed down, and gradually entered the Old Market area.
The night market was about to open, pedestrians were increasing, and many stalls were preparing for business. Her Tuk-tuk Bar was in its usual spot, and the Cambodian tenant was adjusting the lights. With a flip of the switch, the dusty bar counter suddenly came alive with flowing colors.
In the flickering lights, he spotted her too, breaking into a grin and raising his hand in greeting: “Hi, Yi Sa…”
The greeting remained unfinished, his hand awkwardly suspended in mid-air.
Because Yi Sa had suddenly turned her motorcycle around and left.
Li Zhenxiang was sound asleep when she heard a loud knocking on the door.
Opening her eyes, she saw it was midnight. The man beside her grumbled irritably, showing no intention of answering the door.
Li Zhenxiang wanted to turn on the light first, but the knocking was so urgent, echoing like drumbeats in the darkness, carrying an ominous feeling that made her heart race. She fumbled her way to the door in the dark, stumbling as she went.
As soon as she opened it, the person called out: “Sister Xiang.”
It took Li Zhenxiang several seconds to react: “Yi Sa? Why are you here… are you here for Big Bird?”
When Yi Sa left, Chen Tu hadn’t returned, so she had also entrusted Wu Gui to Li Zhenxiang. Li Zhenxiang couldn’t understand why this creature with a bird’s appearance was called “Wu Gui” (black turtle), so she stubbornly kept calling it Big Bird.
“I just went to Chen Tu’s place, it looks the same as when I left. Has he still not returned?”
“No.”
“Have you called him?”
“Usually the boss calls me. When he’s away, that’s my time off. I don’t contact him.”
“Has he contacted you?”
Li Zhenxiang shook her head.
Yi Sa’s heart tightened: “Is this normal?”
Li Zhenxiang, worried about disturbing the person sleeping inside, closed the door and came out to talk.
“Yi Sa, usually when the boss goes to handle big shipments, it takes quite a while.”
“What’s the longest time before?”
Li Zhenxiang thought for a moment: “Once it was over half a month, and another time, about twenty days.”
“It’s been a month now.”
Li Zhenxiang said: “This time is a bit long, but I heard the boss was going to Phnom Penh for the big shipment. That place is full of entertainment and women. You know, the boss lives alone usually, he needs to relax too. If he found some woman he liked and stayed a few extra days, it wouldn’t be strange.”
Suddenly feeling uneasy, she added: “Yi Sa, why are you asking about this in the middle of the night? Nothing’s happened to the boss, has it?”
Yi Sa remained silent for a while before saying: “No, I just have something urgent to discuss with him.”
Usually, Chen Tu going away for business or pleasure wouldn’t be strange.
But with Zong Hang’s disappearance preceding it, Chen Tu’s absence suddenly became terrifyingly suspicious.
People who lived too freely and had unpredictable whereabouts faced more dangers than ordinary people: even if they died, others might not notice in time.
Because you’re not like a routine-following elderly lady whose absence for two days would prompt concerned neighbors to check on you. You could be gone for over a month, perhaps already decomposed, while your workers still think you’re enjoying yourself somewhere in the entertainment district.
Seeing Yi Sa’s silence, Li Zhenxiang thought she had come for Big Bird. She went inside to fetch Wu Gui, but the creature awoke at the slightest disturbance, and seeming to recognize its owner, wobbled out and jumped onto Yi Sa’s boat by itself.
Back at the clinic, Yi Sa turned on the lights in Chen Tu’s “office,” poured a bowl of wine for Wu Gui, and then sat down in the chair behind the desk.
Shelves surrounded her, packed with various medicines. Although most were wrapped in plastic, the distinctive smell of pharmaceuticals kept creeping into her nostrils.
Yi Sa lit a wooden incense stick and stuck it upright in a crack in the desk, then took out paper and pen.
Assuming both Chen Tu and Zong Hang had met with trouble.
There were two possibilities.
One, it happened after Zong Hang was delivered.
Zong Hang had bad luck and met with misfortune after being sent away, and Chen Tu had bad luck too, getting caught and eliminated while handling medicine.
Not impossible, but the probability of such a coincidence was too low.
Two, it happened while delivering Zong Hang.
She spread out a blank paper and drew a circle, marking it with “Su Cai.”
Logically, these would be the most likely people to attack Chen Tu and company, after all, she had rescued Zong Hang from Su Cai’s men.
But some things didn’t add up.
How did Su Cai detect that she had rescued someone from underwater?
Moreover, she knew Chen Tu’s personality – he wouldn’t sacrifice himself for Zong Hang. If they encountered trouble, he would abandon the less important to save himself. From Su Cai’s perspective, it also wouldn’t make sense to rashly target a leader in the Chinese community.
After pondering for a long while, Yi Sa drew a second circle, marking it “Chen Tu’s old enemies.”
Having been in the underworld for so long, Chen Tu must have made some enemies. That’s why he always kept a gun nearby, just in case.
Could it be such a coincidence that while he was delivering Zong Hang, he happened to encounter an old enemy seeking revenge, and they took out both him and Zong Hang?
This remained uncertain but could be a direction for investigation.
She drew a third circle, writing several words inside.
Underwater woman, arm, scar.
This woman hadn’t appeared again.
Those days, she and Ding Chi had returned to the peat swamp forest, but Ma You’s body was gone. Later, Ding Chi proactively suggested using himself as bait, “alone” wandering at night and sleeping in a boat house far from Fu Village, hoping to draw out that woman. But it was all in vain, yielding nothing.
This missing woman was like a time bomb.
Could she be connected to Chen Tu and Zong Hang’s disappearance?
This too remained uncertain.
She drew the final circle, writing several names inside.
Chen Tu, Zong Hang, Ding Chi, and herself.
These were all the people staying in the boat house that night.
She crossed out Chen Tu and Zong Hang, then herself.
Ding Chi…
He shouldn’t be problematic either. He was just passing through, had no connection to Chen Tu or Zong Hang, and no motive.
Yi Sa groaned, pushed away the paper and pen, and ran her fingers through her hair, scratching and pulling in frustration.
This analysis on paper was worse than useless.
How could she possibly know who Chen Tu’s enemies were?
As for that woman, Zhou Daguan in his “Customs of Cambodia” called Tonle Sap Lake the “Fresh Sea,” with its maximum water area roughly equal to four Qinghai Lakes – how could she find someone in such a vast expanse?
If only she had gone with Chen Tu’s boat that morning.
But she hadn’t. Fate played tricks – she had been in the water the night before, slept deeply, and when she woke up, it was already bright daylight, Chen Tu and the others had already sailed away…
Sailed away?
In a flash of insight, Yi Sa’s body suddenly stiffened.
She slowly sat up straight.
The room was very quiet, with Wu Gui’s beak making strange sounds as it touched the edge of the ceramic bowl.
Yes, she had been in the water and slept deeply, but that didn’t mean she was unconscious or dead – she could still hear any reasonably loud sounds.
In this area, Chen Tu’s boat had the biggest engine, making the loudest noise.
But why hadn’t she heard the engine noise that morning?