As a general rule, when travelling for casework, officers stayed at government guesthouses. However, considering that Jiang Hansheng would likely find the conditions there difficult to tolerate, Zhou Jin had chosen a clean hotel near the local public security sub-bureau.

After making the booking, she passed the details along to Jiang Hansheng.

To be certain, Jiang Hansheng asked, “So how many rooms did you book?”

Zhou Jin said, “One, obviously. Why — do you want your own room? I can still add one now.”

She was already reaching for her phone when Jiang Hansheng quickly took her hand. “No need. One is fine.”

“…”

Zhou Jin found this slightly puzzling, though she noticed with some clarity that Professor Jiang’s mood had lifted considerably.

The direct flight from Haizhou Airport to Huaisha took two hours, and from there they still needed three hours by coach to reach the lower district of Huaisha.

The long, winding journey failed entirely to dent Jiang Hansheng’s good mood.

It was only when they arrived at the hotel to drop off their luggage that Jiang Hansheng walked through the door, saw the standard room with its two pristine white beds, and felt something catch briefly in his chest.

Zhou Jin pressed close behind him. “Why have you stopped?”

Jiang Hansheng pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “I have a headache.”

“…”

The journey had, all told, been genuinely exhausting. Zhou Jin and Jiang Hansheng had a simple lunch and a half-hour nap before heading to the Criminal Investigation Unit at the lower district public security sub-bureau to coordinate with the team there.

Wang Pengzhe was also in Huaisha, but he was not in the city proper.

Jiang Hansheng called him and learned that Wang Pengzhe had gone in person to conduct interviews in one of the counties attached to Huaisha.

Zhou Jin found this strange when she heard it.

Wang Pengzhe had long since stepped back from frontline work to focus entirely on criminal research. Why would he personally go out to a county for fieldwork?

The answer came quickly, from the Criminal Investigation Unit itself.

In the reception room, the wall clock ticked steadily, its hands completing one full rotation after another.

Jiang Hansheng sat with his laptop, working through a substantial volume of foreign-language materials. Zhou Jin, bored and with nothing to occupy herself, drifted over for a look, understood none of it, and gave up.

Time passed, minute by minute.

By the time a low battery alert appeared on the screen, Jiang Hansheng rubbed his brow with tired fingers and looked up at the clock. It was already six in the evening.

Zhou Jin had fallen asleep on the sofa. A breeze had picked up outside the window. Worried she might catch a chill, Jiang Hansheng took off his jacket and draped it over her.

She was sleeping lightly and woke easily, looking up at him in a drowsy haze. “Still no one?”

Jiang Hansheng said, “They probably aren’t coming.”

Zhou Jin frowned and muttered, “That busy?”

The moment she’d woken, a sudden chill ran through her. She worked her arms into the sleeves of Jiang Hansheng’s jacket, wearing it backward over herself.

She stood up. “I’ll go ask them myself.”

Jiang Hansheng caught her hand. “Don’t bother. Even if Teacher came in person, it would likely end the same way.”

“Why? We’ve come all this way to Huaisha to help them with the investigation. I’m not asking for a warm reception, but what kind of attitude is this?”

Ring ring ring—

Jiang Hansheng’s phone. He declined the call and said to Zhou Jin, “Teacher is at the front entrance. Let’s head out.”

The sun was sinking low in the west. Across the street from the sub-bureau, a black Volkswagen was parked at the curb.

From a distance, Zhou Jin spotted a figure standing at the front of the car. Wang Pengzhe.

He had his hands tucked into his sleeves and was smiling in their direction.

Zhou Jin’s face brightened. She raised her arm and waved. “Teacher Wang!”

As they reached him, Jiang Hansheng said quietly, “Teacher.”

Wang Pengzhe, merciless as ever, laughed. “Hit a wall, did you? I told you it was a waste of time coming here. Give it until tomorrow and he’ll be asking you for a stamped authorization from the Ministry of Public Security.”

Jiang Hansheng said, “Entirely expected.”

When the Huaisha serial murder case had first emerged, it had set the entire city in an uproar, drawing scrutiny from all corners of society. With no clear leads to be found at the scene, the police had been forced to continuously expand the scope of their search. Countless officers had worked around the clock, conducting interviews and investigations — all of it leading nowhere.

It was only when an accountant named Chen Li, bowing under mounting public pressure, walked in and turned himself in that the case was finally considered closed. The case had become a defining Steel Forest – Chapter in Huaisha’s history, and after the resolution, the police force had even held a commendation ceremony.

Then, five years ago, Jiang Hansheng had overturned the verdict with apparent ease.

With a single petition filed to the Provincial High Procuratorate, Jiang Hansheng had set off what could only be described as a violent upheaval in Huaisha — law enforcement and judicial institutions alike had stumbled badly, suffering a humiliation that was painful to witness.

Hearing Wang Pengzhe lay it out like that, Zhou Jin finally understood the reception they’d received.

Wang Pengzhe clicked his tongue and sighed. “Elsewhere, you, Jiang Hansheng, might be considered a godsend. But here? You’re an unambiguous jinx.”

Jiang Hansheng: “…”

Zhou Jin: “…That’s not something you can blame him for.”

She nudged Jiang Hansheng lightly with her elbow.

He looked down and met her gaze. She gave a small blink — her way of offering support.

Watching the two of them exchanging these little looks, Wang Pengzhe — a man of considerable years — felt his teeth ache from the sheer sweetness of it.

He brought himself back to the matter at hand. “There’s no use counting on their cooperation. But you mentioned last time that Qi Yan may well still be alive — I’ve actually turned up a lead here that I need you both to follow up on.”

Wang Pengzhe had spent more than twenty years in his youth working in Huaisha’s criminal investigation unit, and while his network of contacts could not be called extensive, it was not without its connections.

At the time of the original case, Wang Pengzhe had synthesized evidence from multiple sources and drafted a preliminary criminal profile report. Since criminal profiling had not yet been formally incorporated into investigative practice, he had only been able to pursue it privately. When his own capacity fell short, he had occasionally called on fellow officers to lend a hand.

Today, Wang Pengzhe’s trip to the county attached to Huaisha had been to visit a retired former colleague.

It was a reunion over drinks — and it was precisely those drinks that had stirred the old colleague’s memory. He recalled a household he had investigated back then, one that might just fit the profile they were looking for.

Over the table, the two of them had talked through the hardships they had endured during the investigation of the Huaisha serial murder case.

At the time, the police had worked from multiple angles — looking into the victims, examining their backgrounds, social connections, and the places they frequented; and separately looking into persons of suspicion, checking their alibis, financial circumstances, and so on.

In total, over twenty thousand individuals had been screened. Even now, thinking back to those days made his head ring.

After a good laugh, Wang Pengzhe walked his old colleague through the latest criminal profile, point by point.

“The perpetrator was still an adolescent at the time of the crimes, with either no formal schooling or a pattern of chronic truancy; raised in a single-parent household, living alone with the mother…”

“Adolescent” was inferred from the nature of the killings — the entire series bore the hallmarks of crimes driven by sexual motivation.

“No formal schooling or chronic truancy” was derived from the timing — three of the Huaisha serial murders had taken place on weekdays, which were also school days.

“Single-parent household, living with the mother” was inferred from the killer’s evolving selection of victims, which showed an increasing preference for more mature women.

As Wang Pengzhe laid out this analysis, the old colleague was suddenly reminded of a household he had interviewed, one that matched these criteria reasonably well.

He recalled, “You remember the first victim? I was conducting interviews in her residential complex at the time. A property owner told me he rented his unit out regularly. Previously, he had rented it to a woman.”

“She was single, and apparently very beautiful. She didn’t go out for work — men would come to see her, different ones on different occasions. Neighbors had complained to the landlord about it, telling him to be more careful next time and not rent to a woman of questionable character. My guess at the time was that she was engaged in sex work.”

At this point the old colleague paused, looking puzzled. “But something doesn’t quite fit…”

Wang Pengzhe asked, “What doesn’t fit?”

“She did have children. But not one child — two.”

Wang Pengzhe said, “Two?”

The other man nodded. “That’s right. Two boys. Twins.”