Zhan Wei hadn’t uncovered much so far. He said that if she wanted to learn more, it would be better for her to ask Jiang Hansheng directly.

At the end of the call, Zhan Wei asked Zhou Jin: “Has he never told you about any of this?”

Zhou Jin said: “No.”

Zhan Wei exhaled and said: “Zhou Jin, you really ought to take a good hard look at your marriage. I’ve always felt that this Jiang Hansheng appeared under rather strange circumstances. Are you certain that the blind date was the first time you’d seen each other since growing up?”

Zhou Jin pressed her lips together.

She wasn’t certain. Right now, she wasn’t certain about anything where Jiang Hansheng was concerned.

She suddenly recalled the day of their very first assignment together, when Jiang Hansheng had pulled the car over to the roadside and spoken to her with grave seriousness—

“Zhou Jin, you have no experience going up against the people behind the ‘8·17’ case face to face. When they hijacked those guns back then, part of the motive was for the weapons themselves — but there was an even more important part: they were sending a warning to the police.”

Zhou Jin closed her eyes briefly.

If she had been even slightly more perceptive, if she had thought carefully about what Jiang Hansheng had said, she should have sensed the strangeness in those words long ago.

He had been involved in the early investigation of “8·17.” He had, in all likelihood, come into direct contact with the criminal syndicate.

Yet he clearly knew everything. So why hadn’t he told her?

Zhou Jin said to Zhan Wei: “I’ll think it over. In any case — thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Zhan Wei couldn’t help adding a word of caution: “Remember — whatever you do, don’t bring up my name. If I ever actually get disciplined and lose my job someday, my wife and kids are entirely your responsibility.”

Zhou Jin laughed despite herself: “Fine. I’ll take care of them.”

She ended the call. The smile faded from Zhou Jin’s face, leaving her expression complicated.

Zhou Jin reflected on all the months she had spent alongside Jiang Hansheng — his tenderness during those times — and that tenderness quietly transformed, deep within her, into an inexplicable, creeping dread.

Just how much had Jiang Hansheng been hiding from her?

In this moment, she didn’t even dare to ask.

Her phone screen still showed that group photo of her and Zhou Chuan. Zhou Jin stared at Zhou Chuan’s face, hesitated for a moment, then asked softly: “Brother — was it a mistake, marrying Jiang Hansheng so quickly?”

If it were Zhou Chuan’s nature speaking — how would he have answered her?

Back then, she had wanted to sit the Jingzhou Police Academy entrance exam for Jiang Cheng’s sake. Standing in front of Zhou Chuan, she had thumped her chest and sworn with absolute conviction: “I’ll definitely get in.”

Zhou Chuan had been sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper. He hadn’t even glanced up, delivering his jab with cool indifference: “That’s the height of your ambition, is it? Is Jiang Cheng really worth all that?”

Zhou Jin had gone over and sat beside him, wrapping her hands around his arm. “It’s not only for him — I genuinely think I’m well-suited to being a police officer. Don’t you think?”

Zhou Chuan: “You? Please. I’d worry quite a lot on behalf of the public if their safety were in your hands.”

“Brother——!” Zhou Jin had pouted. But after a moment, she shifted tactics — she blinked up at him with exaggerated, pitiful eyes. “Mom and Dad don’t agree either. If you won’t support me too, then I’ll be all alone in this family, completely without anyone…”

Zhou Chuan had smiled. He folded the newspaper and set it down.

He stopped teasing her. He turned to face her fully, placed his hands on her shoulders, and his fingers pressed with a gentle firmness — as though he were transmitting some form of quiet reassurance.

“Whatever you do, your brother will support you,” Zhou Chuan said. “When you run into problems from now on, go and face them. When you can’t solve them on your own, I’ll be standing behind you. So walk forward without fear — all right?”

Zhou Jin walked forward, step by step, until she reached the top of the staircase, and from there looked down toward the window where Wang Pengzhe and Jiang Hansheng stood.

Jiang Hansheng had his back to her.

Unlike Wang Pengzhe, who was bathed in warm sunlight, the light falling across Jiang Hansheng’s shoulders remained faint and dim — so much so that even his profile, turned slightly to one side, was edged in a soft blur.

You had to look carefully to see him clearly.

All along, Jiang Hansheng’s reticence and his low profile had been just like that — like a layer of faint, muted shadow draped over him. Only in the rarest of moments did the sharp edges hidden within his character let anything show through.

Jiang Hansheng hadn’t noticed Zhou Jin’s arrival. With a calm, composed expression, he said to Wang Pengzhe: “You should have told me sooner.”

“Don’t give me that aggrieved look,” Wang Pengzhe said. “It’s not too late now.”

The moment the murders in Ningyuan and Jingang surfaced, Wang Pengzhe had known they were connected to the Huaiguang serial killings from years ago.

At first, he had assumed it was simply a copycat case, and hadn’t wanted to draw Jiang Hansheng back into it.

Later, when Jiang Hansheng mentioned over the phone the pocket watch he had lost, Wang Pengzhe realized this case was far from a simple imitation.

The murders themselves were secondary. What the killer truly wanted — the real purpose behind the crimes — was to issue a warning to Jiang Hansheng.

Through these four killings, the murderer wanted to tell Jiang Hansheng: I’ve come for you.

Keeping this from him any longer would only worsen the situation — leaving the enemy in shadow while they stood exposed in the light. That was why Wang Pengzhe had made the trip to Haizhou City in person, to tell him face to face.

At the sound of footsteps, Wang Pengzhe looked up and saw it was Zhou Jin. He burst out laughing. “Caught in the act.”

Jiang Hansheng turned around — and met her cautious, watchful gaze.

Zhou Jin spoke to Wang Pengzhe first: “The crime scene examination is complete. On our end, the police will be conducting further investigations into the victim’s social connections, as well as reviewing the surrounding surveillance footage, to establish her movements prior to her death as soon as possible.”

She then asked: “Professor Wang, is there anything else you think we should be doing?”

Wang Pengzhe didn’t rush to explain. He turned the question back to her instead: “Setting aside the standard lines of investigation — you’ve been to the scene yourself. Do you see any other angles worth pursuing?”

Zhou Jin thought for a moment, then said: “In serial murder cases, investigators generally prioritize identifying the killer’s very first crime. On their first attempt, the killer’s methods are still unrefined — they leave behind more evidence, and the underlying impulse to kill is often more raw and undisguised. That makes it easier to establish motive.”

Wang Pengzhe gave a nod.

Zhou Jin continued: “There are no hesitation wounds around the incisions on the victim’s wrists. If the killer isn’t someone professionally skilled with a blade — a doctor, a butcher, that kind of person — then they’re most likely a repeat offender with a prior record.”

Given the serial nature of the case, she leaned toward the latter — and so she was thinking of investigating whether any similar cases had occurred in the past, using a ten-year interval as the reference window.

That part, though, was a leaning rather than a conclusion, and she chose not to say it aloud — she didn’t want to give Wang Pengzhe reason to laugh at her.

Wang Pengzhe, it turned out, was nothing like Tan Shiming — far less strict. He said: “Not bad at all. Good questions, good answers. A proper student.”

His gaze then drifted sideways toward Jiang Hansheng: “Unlike him — sealed up tight as a stopped jar. Back when I used to take him to crime scenes, if he gave me one answer out of ten questions, I was already counting my blessings.”

Jiang Hansheng explained: “I needed time to think.”

Wang Pengzhe: “…Sure. You’re the clever one.”

Zhou Jin rarely saw Jiang Hansheng speak to anyone this way. He always maintained a perfectly measured politeness — yet beneath that politeness lay an endless, impenetrable distance.

For now, both the police investigation and the forensic examination needed time. With the leads so limited, there was little more that could be deduced.

Zhou Jin suggested: “Professor Wang, let me take you back to rest first.”

Wang Pengzhe: “All right.”

After dropping Wang Pengzhe off at his hotel, only Zhou Jin and Jiang Hansheng remained in the car.

Jiang Hansheng noticed she had been busy the entire day. He asked, his voice gentle: “Are you heading back to the unit after this?”

Zhou Jin said: “Yes.”

With the serious crimes division now investigating this case, reopening the old files on the Huaiguang serial killings was unavoidable.

Jiang Hansheng was still turning over the question of how best to broach the subject with Zhou Jin — when she suddenly spoke first.

“Are you hungry?”

Jiang Hansheng glanced out the window at the evening sky. The trailing sunset held a breathtaking sweep of color — blue-violet and blazing crimson bleeding into one another.

Jiang Hansheng said: “I’m all right. What do you feel like eating?”

Zhou Jin: “Instant noodles. Beer.”

Jiang Hansheng: “…”

Zhou Jin: “Come with me. There’s something I want to ask you.”