“Qiao Zhong is the killer who murdered Zhu San, Da Zhu, and old Li,” Shi Ting said.

Everyone stared at him with expressions of shock.

“If the killer is Qiao Zhong, then all of the previous inconsistencies can be perfectly explained. First, where did Qiao Sheng’s car go? No one in the village can drive, and Qiao Sheng liked to keep his car key on him at all times. My inference is that on the day the crime occurred, Qiao Zhong took Qiao Sheng’s key and went to the car to play with children from the village. When darkness fell, he did not return home—instead, he went elsewhere with the children he had been playing with, and thereby escaped. After the fire, Qiao Zhong drove the car away and hid somewhere in the vicinity of Kui Mountain. For these past three years, he has likely been living inside that car. Second, the Qiao brothers had no family or close ties, and we have been investigating all along who might seek revenge on their behalf—yet no suspicious figures had appeared. If Qiao Zhong is still alive, it is only natural that he would avenge his elder brother. Third, when Zhu San and the others appeared to commit suicide, someone used a slingshot to fire ether compound into their charcoal braziers. This type of ether compound can only be purchased in Shun Cheng. Do you all remember what the villagers said about Qiao Zhong? They said he was always yawning, always looking as though he hadn’t slept enough. They assumed Qiao Zhong was ill, but in fact Qiao Zhong was in good health—he had simply been inhaling this substance all along, and what he was inhaling was precisely this ether compound. One reason Qiao Sheng had been taking him along on travels was to help him break the habit. Qiao Zhong knew what effect an excessive inhaled dose of this ether compound would produce, and so he used this method to kill without anyone being the wiser.”

Zheng Yun listened, nodding, then shook his head. “I agree with Seventh Brother’s points, but there are still several inconsistencies that cannot be explained. How did Qiao Zhong know who had harmed Qiao Sheng? Qiao Zhong had not appeared in Foggy Hidden Village in three years—how could he keep track of Zhu San and the others’ movements, or provoke the villagers into threatening us earlier? If Qiao Zhong has truly been living in that car, how has he survived?”

“Because Qiao Zhong is not the only killer,” Shi Ting said with complete certainty. “Someone worked together with Qiao Zhong—an inside and outside operation—and this person is a villager of Foggy Hidden Village.”

“A friend of Qiao Zhong’s?”

Shi Ting looked at the two charred bodies. “Do not forget—if the dead person is not Qiao Zhong, then who is she really?”

Every question pointed back to that unidentified body. Only by uncovering the mystery of this body would the identity of the second killer come to light.

The fog grew thicker and thicker, as though it were obscuring even the darkness of the night, casting a shroud of mystery and oppression over this small village.

After the routine case analysis concluded, everyone returned to their small courtyard to rest.

The case was becoming clearer and clearer. One killer had already surfaced. As long as tomorrow’s investigation went smoothly, the identity of the second killer would also be laid bare.

With this excited feeling, everyone was keyed up and could not easily sleep even when resting.

Zheng Yun and Bai Jin lay together, discussing the case. E’Yuan was thoroughly exhausted and was snoring away. Shi Ting lay with his arms folded beneath his head, gazing at the foggy sky outside, his thoughts elsewhere.

Foggy Hidden Village’s nights were very quiet. The occasional bark of a dog was swallowed up by the thick fog.

Zheng Yun and Bai Jin’s voices drifted on and off until both emitted a faint snore, yet Shi Ting remained awake.

It was precisely because he stayed alert that a faint thudding sound from outside the door landed clearly in his ears.

The night was so still that the sound reached him with perfect clarity—the sound of someone jumping down from the top of a wall, landing lightly yet not without noise.

Bai Jin and Zheng Yun beside him had already fallen into deep sleep. E’Yuan had buried his face in his pillow and was drooling.

Shi Ting sat up from the sleeping platform and said in a low voice, “There is someone outside.”

Everyone in the Military Police Division had cultivated a certain skill: no matter how soundly they had been sleeping, a single word—even a single sound—was enough to bring them instantly awake.

Zheng Yun sat up and saw Shi Ting pressed against the side of the wall, pointing toward the window outside. Everyone immediately clambered off the sleeping platform.

At that moment, a flash of light came from outside, and a torch came flying toward their window. The group instinctively drew back.

The torch landed on the windowsill and quickly set the wooden window frame alight.

“Get out, quickly.” Shi Ting turned from the window, moving swift as lightning through the middle room to the side chamber where Yan Qing slept.

Yan Qing was still deep in sleep when someone called urgently in her ear, “Yan Qing.”

Yan Qing had barely opened her eyes when she was already gathered up in someone’s arms. “Murong, move quickly.”

Murong sprang swiftly from the sleeping platform to the floor. Catching sight of Yan Qing’s wheelchair, she immediately pushed it over. The wheelchair was like her mistress’s two legs—she would never abandon it, no matter the circumstances.

Shi Ting carried Yan Qing and rushed toward the door, but the main gate blocked their path. With no time to lift the inner bolt, he raised his foot and kicked it open. As the gate burst apart, a torch came flying straight at them. The torch was on the verge of striking Yan Qing when Shi Ting turned, shielding her with his back and taking the full force of the blow himself.

Everything happened so fast. Yan Qing saw only a flash of flame and instinctively squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, a large hand was pressing down on her head, forcing her firmly into the shelter of his embrace. All she could sense was the distinctive scent of him and the scorching heat of his chest.

“Shi Ting…” She was sheltered within his arms, and her voice came out muffled.

“It is all right.” Shi Ting quickly pressed his burning back against the wall to smother the flames. “I am fine.”

Though he spoke calmly, she caught the smell of burning flesh. At the very instant the torch had struck, she had distinctly heard a muffled grunt from above her. He was a man who had not made a sound even when she had bandaged his leg wound.

Zheng Yun and Bai Jin had already given chase. E’Yuan and Murong quickly drew water from the well to fight the fire.

Fortunately, the attacker had thrown only three torches, and the response had been swift. Beyond some damage to the doors and windows, no serious harm had been done.

“Shi Ting, put me down.” Yan Qing was anxious to examine his injuries.

After Shi Ting set Yan Qing down in her wheelchair, he went to inspect the torches. Yan Qing could only propel her wheelchair to follow.

He was looking at the torches. She was looking at his back.

Where the torch had struck, his clothes had burned away over a large area, exposing the blackened flesh beneath.

“There is a smell of petrol on these torches.” He brought one to his nose and sniffed.

The only place in this village with a supply of petrol was Qiao Sheng’s car, and the only person who could have accessed it was the missing Qiao Zhong.

“Qiao Zhong wants to burn us to death—or at least send us a warning,” Shi Ting said. “He does not want us to continue the investigation.”

“That young man, he is not very old, but he is truly ruthless,” E’Yuan said, extinguishing the fire. His face had been blackened by smoke.

Hatred can transform a person who was once kind into someone vicious. But the reverse is rarely true—a person who is vicious is almost never reformed.

Angels can become demons, but demons can never become angels.

“He got away.” Zheng Yun and Bai Jin returned to the courtyard, fuming with frustration. “The fog is simply too thick. Visibility is less than half a meter.”

The natural heavy fog of Foggy Hidden Village provided the killer with the most favorable of shields, allowing him to come and go freely under its cover.

“Seventh Brother, you’re hurt.” Bai Jin caught sight of Shi Ting’s injured back and cried out in alarm.

“It is nothing—”

“How can it be nothing.”

Shi Ting’s words were cut off by a stern voice. “Shi Ting, come inside at once and take off your shirt.”

Everyone turned as one to look at Yan Qing.

Yan Qing’s expression was grave. “What are you all looking at? Get your Division Chief inside.”

This time, everyone was very cooperative. Shi Ting was ushered into the room by many hands and pressed down onto the sleeping platform.

Shi Ting: ……

Was this a mutiny?

“Do not move.” Yan Qing pressed one of his shoulders down, quashing his attempt to sit up. “Do you remember the story about the amputation?”

Seeing Shi Ting obediently lie back down, Yan Qing was satisfied. “If you do not cooperate, what gets amputated will not be your arm, but your entire upper half.”

This was plainly a threat.

E’Yuan could not help quietly covering his mouth to laugh.

Zheng Yun and Bai Jin exchanged a glance and smiled as well. The only person capable of making their Seventh Brother behave, it seemed, was Miss Yan.

“Dr. E’Yuan, go ask one of the villagers for some fog-root,” Yan Qing said, gesturing to Murong to bring the scissors.

The earlier commotion had already drawn nearby villagers to watch. E’Yuan went out and explained the situation to the crowd. Someone immediately returned home and brought back some fresh fog-root.

In recent days, Yan Qing had been studying the fog-root and discovered it to be a highly effective medicinal herb for treating burns and scalds. Ground into a paste and preserved, it could be applied to wounds when needed. It was not only remarkably effective for burns and scalds, but equally useful for external injuries of other kinds.

Yan Qing carefully cut away the burned fabric from Shi Ting’s back. Some of the cloth had fused to his skin under the heat, and peeling away tissue so closely adhered would naturally cause a great deal of pain—one could easily imagine how much.

“The rest of you, please leave,” Yan Qing said. “Dr. E’Yuan can stay.”

E’Yuan washed the fog-root clean, then took up a stone mortar and began grinding.

Yan Qing helped Shi Ting remove his outer shirt and had him lie face down on a pillow.

She had seen bodies of all kinds and was long accustomed to it. But faced with the half-bare man lying before her now, she found, to her surprise, that her face was growing warm.

Shi Ting’s physique was the golden ratio of broad shoulders and narrow hips forming an inverted triangle. When he wore his uniform, he appeared somewhat lean, but stripped of his clothes, he revealed well-defined muscle—every line and contour conveying strength and sensuality.

Yan Qing made a concentrated effort to keep her focus on the wound at his back. She picked up the forceps and began removing the remnants of fabric embedded there.

Each piece of cloth lifted away tore off a section of burned flesh along with it, exposing raw, vivid red beneath.

Shi Ting’s fists were pressed on either side of his head. He did not make a sound, but the clenched fists showed thick veins rising across their surface.

He had not hesitated to use his own body to block the incoming torch, all to protect her from harm. She thought of that muffled grunt he had suppressed, of the hand that had pulled her so forcefully into his embrace. Her eyes grew warm with unshed tears.

—